


Waning

by EclecticSpaghetti



Category: Persona 5, Persona Series
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-22
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:33:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 71,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22357237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EclecticSpaghetti/pseuds/EclecticSpaghetti
Summary: Akira Kurusu and the rest of the Phantom Thieves are forced to deal with Yuuki Mishima's repressed emotions that have devolved into a Shadow, and Akira is not excited about confronting his good friend and biggest supporter.
Relationships: Kurusu Akira/Mishima Yuuki, Mishima Yuuki/Persona 5 Protagonist, and they all like each other, ummm there's a lot of crushing because the phantom thieves are dorks
Comments: 28
Kudos: 77





	1. Chapter 1

For once, Akira Kurusu wasn’t elated when the final bell rang. As all the other students in his class quickly shouldered their bags and raced out the door, or gathered in groups to go on their phones and talk about the new album coming out, or giggle about how Mr. Ushinaru hit him in the head with a piece of chalk that morning, Akira slowly gathered his things and swept them into his bag. 

Normally, Akira would have already had his bag closed and packed at least five minutes before the bell rang, and the second it did, he would have been one of the first people out the door, holding his phone in front of his face as he ran down the stairs, texting the first person that came to mind to ask if they wanted to hang out, and nine times out of ten the answer was yes. He’d spend hours with them, whether it was playing games with Futaba or running track with Ryuji, and then immediately head off to see the next person, maybe he’d play a match of shogi with Hifumi or help Sojiro in the shop. The possibilities were almost endless, and nothing made Akira happier than spending time with the people he cared about.

Unfortunately, the past while had been the exception. The Phantom Thieves had just finished a long and difficult mission earlier, changing the heart of President Okumura of Okumura Foods, at the behest of what seemed like  _ literally _ the entire world. They  _ thought _ they had done it right… they’d even saved Haru in the process… but then he sort of… died. And nobody knew why. Haru was distraught, the public opinion was in shambles, even the small victory of freeing Haru from an awful marriage felt hollow, and nobody really wanted to hang out very much.

Unfortunately, Akira would be lying if he said he didn’t feel the same way. It was kind of depressing. They really only did this because of the people’s requests, but now they had turned on them… that would make anyone feel like shit, especially considering the gloomy air the whole event had cast over the entire group. He didn’t really feel like doing much, either. 

Akira sighed and finally picked up his bag, resigning himself to the idea that he was just going to sleep at Leblanc, maybe ask Yoshida about a speech that ni-

“Kurusu!”

Akira flinched, jolting out of his maze of thought and jumping slightly, causing his bag to slip off his shoulder and hang from his elbow. Akira slid it back up as he turned around, trying to regain his composure. “Who is tha-  _ oh.”  _

Yuuki Mishima, the administrator of the Phan-site, a place where people go for all things Phantom Thief-related, was looking him right in the face, with a little less regard for personal space than Akira might have preferred, but he didn’t mind. Mishima was one of his best friends and biggest supporters, and even though he had been acting a little bit more  _ “motivated”  _ recently, his soft blue hair and striking dark eyes were definitely a sight for Akira’s sore eyes. 

At this point, Akira was almost annoyed at the way his heartbeat sped up at the sight of him, and how he could feel his cheeks getting warm. He already  _ knew  _ he was in love, Akira was in love with almost everyone he knew, he was stupid that way. He didn’t need to keep being  _ reminded  _ of it. 

“Kurusu…?” Mishima repeated. He looked at Akira questioningly. “Are you listening to me?”

Akira brought his focus back to the real world as he realized Mishima had been talking his ear off the whole time. “Oh, yes, of course, um, Mishima, I was kind of… I’m sorry, I didn’t catch all that…”

Mishima huffed, and started messing with his phone, as if to show him something. Akira frowned. He almost never saw Mishima without either his phone or his laptop within arm’s reach, and he could only guess that he was always working on the Phan-site. It was a great site, but… the dude needed to chill out sometimes. Now was not the time to bring it up, though. Akira decided to just be cool about things. 

“So…” Akira started casually, leaning against the desk he had rested his bag on. “How have you been? Everything all right with you?” he asked half in the interest of small talk and half out of genuine care. 

“Fine, fine…” Mishima grumbled as he typed feverishly on his phone. “Where did the damn master list go, I had it up  _ five minutes  _ ago…”

Akira sighed. He loved Mishima, but… this was starting to get tiresome, and... more than a little bit worrying, actually. 

“Ah-ha!” Mishima cheered. “Here it is!” Mishima thrust his phone into Akira’s face so much that Akira had to step back a couple of paces to read it. It was a scrolling list of all the requests that had been rolling in on the forums. Akira had expected it to go silent or even completely drop dead after the Okumura disaster, but that was clearly not the case. The feed was a flood of people with problems. Many of them were normal grievances that they should sort through, others were simple spam, but Akira couldn’t help noticing more than a few requests that were reduced to begging, or worse, people just asking “Please don’t come after me…” It was… jarring, to say the least. 

“I just thought it’d be nice for you to see all the support you’re still getting, even after that, um, incident!” Mishima beamed. Akira just stared at him. He was… happy about this? “Well, I guess it’s more like the support  _ we’re _ getting, to be fair,” Mishima added. “I’m a part of this too, of course,” he asserted. 

“Yeah, of course…” Akira soothed him absently, continuing to stare at the scrolling feed. It was starting to unnerve him a little bit…

“Mishima?” Akira asked. “Have you noticed all these… other messages?” He pointed out an example, someone mentioning Mishima by name and asking him to keep them safe… that seemed like a bit much for Akira.

Mishima came around to look over Akira’s shoulder and laughed cheerfully when he saw the request Akira was pointing to. Akira glanced up at him in confusion, and saw that Mishima was in a strange duality of satisfaction and reservation. Akira had gotten good at reading people in the past few months, and he could tell something was going on inside Mishima’s head. “Oh, don’t worry about that!” The cheerful grin was back. “They’re probably just skittish because of the warnings I’ve been giving out recently. I didn’t… expect them to react this much, I just wanted them to stop detracting you guys, but this is kind of for the best, isn’t it? Now more people will know not to mess with us! Isn’t this great, Kurusu?” 

It was a good thing Akira had become so skilled at keeping calm, otherwise the jolt of horror that he felt might have been visible on his face. Was this all just a power fantasy to Mishima? He  _ had _ mentioned threatening the trolls on the Phan-site before, when they met at the diner a few weeks earlier, but Akira had assumed he was just upset, that he didn’t really mean it… 

But the pleased smile on Mishima’s face made Akira feel pained at the idea of shutting him down. “...Yes! This is… good. Thank you so much, Mishima.”

Mishima’s eyes absolutely  _ lit _ up, making Akira’s heart get all warm and fuzzy. “...Thanks, Kurusu,” he said, suddenly staring at the floor. “I… I’m sorry I came up to you so suddenly and took so much of your time… I was just… a little excited, is all, I’m… sorry.” He gave Akira a little bow, still not looking him in the eyes. 

Akira was a little taken aback at the sudden loss of confidence. “Hey, hey, it’s okay, promise.” Akira gently put a hand on Mishima’s shoulder. “You can always take as much of my time as you want to, alright?” he told Mishima firmly. 

Mishima started at the touch, looking up at Akira. “I… wow, okay, um…” He didn’t really seem to know what to say, so Akira decided to change the subject. 

“Anyways, how have you been doing, really, I’ve noticed you seem really spent lately…” Akira asked, genuinely concerned. 

Mishima’s eyes widened and he brushed away Akira’s hand, like he had been lost in thought before. “No, no, I’m okay, really! I’ve just been doing a lot of work late these past few days, trying to iron out all the people who think badly of you after the previous matters, it’s a big job, but people who are like that just make me so mad, and I-“ Mishima stopped abruptly. “Sorry. I, um… I got carried away. ...Please don’t worry about me, okay? I’m all right, and I really should get back to, um, work… You probably have much better things to do than talk to me, anyways…” He trailed off awkwardly. 

Akira was kind of sorry he’d gotten so personal. “Ok, Mishima… thanks for talking to me,” he said feebly. 

“Bye…” Mishima gave a halfhearted wave and shuffled off, stuffing his phone into his pocket. 

Akira watched him go and then was lost in thought for a few minutes, and then finally started out the door himself. All the things Mishima had said wouldn’t leave his mind… and those requests… It was certainly worrying, Akira couldn’t help but wonder if Mishima was really okay behind it all...

Akira lightly tapped his pencil on the table while he absently sipped coffee. He had decided to take some time to study for once, since even now he couldn’t bear the idea of wasting a day, but he had barely written anything in his notes, and the words in his textbook just floated right past his brain and kept going farther and farther away. He was considering bringing Mishima’s strange behavior up with the others, but he hated the idea of doing that. No… no, not yet at least. It didn’t affect them, and Mishima wasn’t  _ really _ hurting anyone, was he…?  _ No, _ Akira answered himself firmly.  _ He’s just been getting… a little carried away… I’ll talk to him about that soon...  _ Akira wasn’t looking forward to getting so personal with Mishima again, but he wanted to help him, and he was… really worried.

After realizing he had subconsciously written the name “Mishima” at least three times on his notes, Akira decided to just give up trying to study for the day. He awkwardly closed up his books and shuffled his papers away, hoping no one he knew would see them, and walked out the door. 

As Akira checked his phone for the twentieth time that afternoon and saw that there were no new messages, he sighed. It was getting pretty lonely with everyone so depressed… Akira couldn’t wait for the next time he and Ann could make time to go visit Shiho. He missed her… nah, Akira missed all of them. He was almost wishing for something big to happen so he could have an excuse to get the gang together again. But that might mean something worse than Okumura could happen… and Akira really was not ready for that.

He tried just sending a good night text in their group chat, and everyone promptly responded pleasantly (or as close as Ryuji and Futaba could get to “pleasant”), which surprised Akira. Maybe they all felt the same way as him…? Akira decided to push his luck and keep going.

**Akira:** How is everyone feeling? Are you holding up all right, Haru?

**Haru:** Oh, yes, I’m doing okay. A little bit tired from all of Father’s associates contacting me so often, though… It’s exhausting, talking to such important people. 

**Akira:** Ah… I’m still so, so sorry, Haru. 

Akira meant it, too. Even if they couldn’t figure out why Okumura had had a mental shutdown, and everyone had agreed it couldn’t have been their fault, even Haru, Akira still felt personally responsible for the failure. Maybe if he had just been more careful…

**Haru:** Please, don’t mention it, it wasn’t your fault. Your concern and care is very touching, though, Akira… thank you.

Oh, Haru… always so sweet, even when she was the one who needed comfort the most. 

**Futaba:** um, you guys? this is a  _ group _ chat :l

**Ann:** Futaba! You ruined it!

**Futaba:** just sayin’

**Makoto:** Anyways, can we please calm down? I second Akira’s question, how is everyone feeling today? 

**Yusuke:** It has been difficult to find the energy to move my brush, but nevertheless, I push on in the face of adversary. 

**Ryuji:** ...you’re so weird, dude. 

**Ann:** I’ve been doing all right! Getting a little bit antsy, actually…

**Ryuji:** whoa, you too??? I totally thought I’d be the only one. 

**Makoto:** I agree, actually. It does us no good to sit around and mope. We should head into the Metaverse again soon. 

**Haru:** Don’t you think it would draw too much attention to us if we were going to go after someone else…?

**Yusuke:** Very true, Haru. Not to mention that we don’t even have any leads whatsoever on a new Palace. 

**Makoto:** Yes, I think it would be much better if we were to focus on targets in Mementos for now, if only to stay sharp. Akira, has Mishima sent you any more information?

Akira tensed. He considered telling them about their conversation earlier that afternoon, but he decided against it. No point right now, really. He hadn’t even really been able to pick up any actual details from Mishima’s feed, he had been… distracted. 

**Akira:** Um… no, not really, I was actually planning to talk to him tomorrow. 

**Makoto:** Excellent. Maybe we can even go into Mementos that afternoon.

**Akira:** Would everyone be up for that?

**Ryuji:** HELL yeah! I’d love to get some action to take my mind off of things!

**Ann:** Yeah, honestly, I think I could use a break… God, how weird is it that I consider this a “break”

**Yusuke:** Not weird at all. I share the sentiment. 

**Makoto:** Honestly, me too. It’ll be good to get some practice in before our next real mission. 

**Futaba:** i mean, i HAVE been wanting to get out of the house for a while...

**Haru:** It’s decided, then. I’ll see if I can cancel my plans for tomorrow. Akira, please don’t forget to talk to Mishima! Thank you so much…

**Akira:** Will do! And… thanks, guys.

**Futaba:** No problem c:

Akira felt a little bit better. Having definite plans again was definitely nice, and everyone seemed pretty happy to be getting back into the swing of things. Akira slipped his phone into his pocket and swung open the door of Leblanc. He just had to be polite to Mishima tomorrow, and-

“WELCOME HOME!!!”

Something small and heavy landed on Akira’s head, sliding off quickly as Akira jumped about a foot in the air. 

Akira, of course knew exactly who this was. “GAH- you little shit- Off! Now! Please?” he stammered as he stuck out his arms.

Morgana plopped into his arms, his trademark grin on his face. “Hey, Akira! How was…  _ school?” _

Akira sighed at Morgana’s attempt at subtlety. “It was all right, I guess. But you don’t need to keep complaining, I’m not budging. The police are starting to get serious, and I’d rather not draw attention to myself by talking to a cat hiding in my school bag.”

Morgana pouted as Akira soothingly scratched him behind the ears. “Maybe I wouldn’t talk…” Akira snorted at the very idea. 

“Where’s Sojiro?” Akira asked, not bothering to answer Morgana’s ridiculous notion. He petted Morgana’s head absently, looking around at the familiar, retro cafe he’d come to love so much. 

Morgana tried his best to not look pleased at Akira’s attention. “Grocery shopping. He’ll be back in a few hours, he actually mentioned something about making you dinner tonight.”

Akira smiled fondly at the idea. Sojiro was initially gruff, but he had soon revealed that he was all bark and no bite. “He’s so nice… Don’t- Tell him I said that. Ah, whatever, you can if you want, it’ll just embarrass him.” Akira laughed. 

Akira was done being so cuddly with Morgana, dumping him on the floor. Morgana hopped up on the counter, yawning. “By the way, we’re going to Mementos tomorrow, so be ready,” Akira told him as he ducked upstairs to put his bag away, and then went into the kitchen to root around in the refrigerator. 

“Oh, really?” Morgana asked, perking up his ears. “You’re still getting requests, even… now?”

Akira sighed. “Yes, Morgana, Mishima’s working very hard to keep the Phan-site going… Maybe too hard,” Akira couldn’t help adding. 

Akira stuck his head in the refrigerator to avoid Morgana’s penetrating eyes. It was pretty empty, nothing he could really eat. “Is… are you… Is everything okay between you and him…? Or just him, I don’t know…” Morgana clearly wasn’t the best at doing this sort of thing. 

But Akira appreciated him trying, and his feelings had become hard to contain, so even this little gesture was enough. It didn’t hurt that they were by themselves, either. “I… I’m worried about him…” he whispered, staring down at the floor. 

Morgana jumped down from the counter and ran over into the kitchen, hopping onto the sink. Normally Akira would take him off of there, it’s not for cats, but he didn’t care. “Worried…?” Morgana asked. 

Akira shook his head. “It’s… nothing, really, it just seems like… he’s gotten… different. Recently… I mean, it’s just… seems like he might be using the Phan-Site, and… and  _ us,  _ to… fuel his own power fantasies, or… something. I don’t know, I just… worry.” He didn’t look at Morgana for a long time, but when he did, he saw Morgana awkwardly glancing around the room. 

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-“

“Is he distorted?” Morgana said quietly. 

Akira stopped dead. “...What?”

Morgana sighed. “I mean, he kind of sounds like… I mean, I don’t know him that well, but this is… a textbook case, really, he really could have... a Shad-“

_ “No,” _ Akira said flatly, slamming the fridge door shut. “He isn’t- he can’t be- I know he could never- I’m…” Akira opened and closed his mouth feebly. Part of him knew Morgana could be right, but part of him- the forceful part,  _ didn’t want him to be.  _

Morgana’s eyes had widened at Akira’s response. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t realize this would affect you so much… I wish I could tell you to forget I said it, but… it’s irresponsible to just ignore th-“

_ “No.” _ Akira repeated, then sighed in frustration. “Look, I- I was already gonna talk to him tomorrow anyway, to get some Mementos targets- I’ll make it a real conversation, I’ll prove to you that he’s not bad, he’s not like… them. I’ll prove it.” Akira’s arms were shaking, and he wasn’t sure if it was with frustration or fear. He couldn’t bear the idea of Mishima having a shadow, but on the other hand, Morgana might be… right…

_ No. _ He… he couldn’t be. It just… no. 

Morgana nodded. “Good idea, we can’t be hasty. But I have to come with you.”

Akira blinked. “...Why?”

Morgana shook his head sadly. “I have to verify it, Akira… because, well… to put it nicely, you seem… biased.”

Akira deflated. He definitely was biased, there was no doubt about that. But still, there was  _ no way… _ “Fine,” Akira spat. “You’ll see for yourself, there’s no way he’s distorted. No way.”

Morgana nodded. “All right, Akira. Don’t forget me tomorrow, we have to stay strong here.”

Akira turned away. “Sure,” he monotoned. “I won’t forget. I’m gonna go take a nap, actually. See you,” he said flatly. 

“Okay…” Morgana called. “Um… sleep well?”

Akira scoffed once he was out of Morgana’s earshot.  _ Not likely, _ he thought,  _ now that there’s something  _ else  _ to worry about… _

Akira flopped on his bed without even bothering to change, and pulled the covers over himself haphazardly. Now that he was in bed, all the worries from earlier kept coming back, which were only worsened by Morgana’s ideas. Akira really,  _ really _ didn’t want to think about that stuff, but he couldn’t help it. 

After spending what felt like an hour fruitlessly trying to sleep, Akira just gave up and pulled out his phone. 

_ Might as well give Mishima a heads up, _ Akira thought. Mostly he just wanted to talk to him again, to reassure himself that he was okay. 

**Akira:** Hey, Mishima? 

**Mishima:** Kurusu? What is it? Is everything all right? Or did you complete a request already?

**Akira:** No, no, I’m fine, and I was actually going to ask about that. We’re planning on going to Mementos tomorrow, and we need your best info on some good targets. 

**Mishima:** Oh, of course! I’ll see what I can find right now!

**Akira:** No no, that’s ok, I was just giving you a heads up that I’ll be coming to talk to you tomorrow, I wanted to do it in person, that might be better. Do you want to meet at the diner again?

**Mishima:** Oh… yeah! Okay, I’ll compile the best targets right now so they’ll all be ready for you tomorrow! You’re the Phantom Thieves, after all, I’m sure you’d want to get a move on.

**Akira:** Yeah… 

**Akira:** Mishima, are you on the Phan-site right now?

**Mishima:** Of course I am! Why, what’s up?

**Akira:** Sorry, just wondering. Just be sure to take a break every once in a while, alright?

**Mishima:** I  _ can’t _ take a break! This is hard, important work. If I don’t do it, your guys’ public image is going to tank, and

**Mishima:** I just can’t leave this work! I have to work hard, for the Phantom Thieves, even if I lose sleep over this!

_ That _ was a little bit worrying. 

**Akira:** Mishima… it’s not so important as that…

**Mishima:** ...okay, Kurusu. I’m sorry. 

**Akira:** There’s no need to be sorry…

Akira stared at his phone anxiously for about five minutes, waiting for a response, but none came. That was even more worrying. Akira sighed, and since he could hear the telltale bustling and banging around in the kitchen that meant Sojiro was home, he decided to just give up and go down for dinner. Akira put his phone on the bed to charge, and trudged down the stairs. 

Yuuki Mishima cursed under his breath as he shoved his phone in a drawer. He put his laptop onto his lap and got back to work. He preferred using the desktop, but that was downstairs, and Yuuki really didn’t feel like walking past his parents and having them not react to him at all. It happened so often, but it still hurt… because he was so weak. 

_ No, I’m not weak,  _ Yuuki reminded himself. This work was important, no matter what Kurusu thought… Yuuki didn’t hold it against Kurusu, far from it, he was so… cool, and kind, and amazing. He was just pointing out the obvious, and in a caring way, too, Yuuki didn’t blame him for that. 

Still, though, Yuuki didn’t need to be  _ reminded _ of it. He felt like the only person who understood just how much he did. He worked his ass off day in and day out, all for the Phantom Thieves, and only Kurusu even bothered to thank him, and not as much as Yuuki thought was necessary, either…

Not just Kurusu, all of the Phantom Thieves benefitted from, no,  _ depended  _ on him. He was the driving force behind them, he was what kept them going… and that was what made him special, too. 

The Phantom Thieves would be nothing without him, and he would be nothing without the Phantom Thieves.

Yuuki occupied his mind with thoughts like this as he sifted through the requests with a vengeance, a grimace forming on his face.


	2. Chapter 2

Akira woke up earlier than usual the next morning, so early, in fact, that the sun was only just barely starting to peek over the surrounding rooftops. He was surprised he had even been able to sleep, honestly, with how much was going on. The odd thing was, he didn’t hear Morgana anywhere. Akira had thought he would be the first one up by a wide margin, so that he could personally make sure Akira wouldn’t waltz off without him. 

_ Maybe he’s still asleep downstairs, _ Akira thought. That was fine with him. He didn’t really want Morgana tagging along to watch him and Mishima talk, anyways, and if he was still asleep, then, well, Akira couldn’t be blamed for not wanting to wake him, could he?

Akira decided to get an early start that morning, because there really wasn’t much he could do so early in the morning besides get the hot chocolate at the school store before they ran out like they always do. And also he didn’t want to wake Morgana. Akira grabbed his armful of books from the shelf by his bed and went over to the table, grabbing his bag and-

_ “Akira,”  _ came a whisper from the bag.

Akira started, dumped his books on the table, and held open the bag to peer inside. There was Morgana, curled up inside the bag, staring up at him with a very annoyed expression. 

“What are you  _ doing?” _ Akira hissed. Morgana yawned, and started licking his paws.

“You woke me up!” he groaned. “Why so early, anyways- ohhh…” Morgana nodded. “You weren’t thinking of leaving  _ without _ me, were you?” he demanded.

Shit. Akira shook his head. “No! I mean- I just- I thought you were still asleep. I didn’t want to wake you up…” he said feebly.

Morgana narrowed his eyes at him. “Uh-huh,” he said, then went back to cleaning himself.

Even though he was still frustrated with Morgana’s insistence, Akira felt bad. “...I’m sorry,” he sighed. “I’m being a bit of a jerk, I apologize, it’s just…”

“It’s just that this is a personal thing for you, and it’s uncomfortable to imagine that someone you love so much could be twisted on the inside,” Morgana interrupted.

Akira blinked. “I- that’s- Who are you and what did you do with Morgana?” he tried to joke. 

“I’m a little more perceptive than I look,” he said nonchalantly. 

Akira just stared, uncomfortable at how accurate Morgana had him pegged for. “St-Stiil,” he stammered, “You’re- you’re wrong about him, you’ll see.” Akira tried his hardest to not let on how much he was trying to convince himself, too.

Morgana curled back up inside the bag. “We’ll just have to wait and see, Akira. Don’t put your books on top of me.”

Akira sighed, and began putting his books in his bag, leaving a large, Morgana shaped hole in the center.

* * *

As Akira sat down at his desk  _ (with _ his hot chocolate, too, he hadn’t been kidding about that), Ann, who sat at the desk in front of him, turned around in her seat to greet him. 

“Morning!” she chirped with her signature beaming smile that instantly melted Akira’s heart. God, she was pretty. Akira couldn’t help but be lovestruck yet again. The way the sunlight from the window illuminated her golden hair was absolutely breathtaking.  _ Calm down, _ Akira ordered himself.  _ Be chill. What would  _ Joker _ do? _

“Hey, Ann,” Akira replied warmly, putting his bag on his lap and unzipping it while keeping just the right amount of eye contact with Ann so that she knew she was being paid attention to, but not in an uncomfortable way. Akira was about to ask her how her night was, but unfortunately the bag was fully unzipped, which meant Morgana was free. He quickly jumped from within the bag to the inside of Akira’s desk, but peeked over the top to look at Ann.

“Good morning, Lady Ann,” Morgana purred. Ann jumped. Her ponytails jumped too. 

“Morgana???” she whispered, trying to make it less obvious that she was talking to Akira’s desk. “I thought you weren’t gonna come to school for a while…?” Her eyes were wide with surprise and interest. Akira tried not to stare into them. 

Morgana glanced up at Akira, who refrained from making eye contact in return. “Uh… He wanted me to keep him company!” Morgana lied, and quickly retreated back into the desk. Probably to avoid having to explain it all, Akira thought. 

Akira nodded blankly. “Yeah,” he agreed. He was glad Morgana didn’t tell the truth, because there was no reason to. This whole thing with Mishima would blow over by the end of the afternoon, and then they could all unwind in Mementos. Nothing bad was going to happen, Mishima would turn out to be good, and Morgana would stop worrying.  _ Everything is gonna be fine,  _ Akira told himself as he took a deep breath to steady himself. 

“Akira…? You okay?” Ann’s voice broke through to Akira, and he started. Ann was looking at him with wide, worried eyes and a concerned look on her face. “You seem stressed…”

Akira stiffened, and played with his sleeves to keep his cool. “Of course! I’m okay,” he assured, “Just… tired. I woke up really early this morning by accident.” He forced a smile that hopefully seemed adequately strained for Ann to believe him. 

Ann’s look of concern shifted to a look of caring. “Oh… I’m sorry, Akira… You should go to bed earlier tonight! I’ve been trying to do that myself, it really makes a world of difference, if you commit to it!” she beamed, then frowned thoughtfully. “Though, I suppose it’s the committing that’s the hard part…” she murmured. 

Akira couldn’t help snickering at that. Neither could Ann, apparently, and soon their giggling turned into full-blown laughter, the two of them cracking up completely, at least until Ms. Kawakami entered the room and gave them a funny look. 

As they calmed down and Kawakami prepared to start school, Akira leaned forward and whispered to Ann:  _ “Thanks.” _

Ann gently pushed his face away back to his seat. Her hand was soft. _“Thanks_ _yourself, moron,”_ she giggled. 

Akira let himself lean back in his seat and get lost in happiness for a little bit, trying not to look at Morgana, who he  _ knew _ was going to be giving him one of those smug, knowing smiles. 

As the bell finally rang to signal the start of homeroom, Akira could almost forget worrying about anything for a little bit, thanks to Ann and her infectious cheerful energy. 

Yuuki Mishima stumbled into the room half a minute later, looking disheveled and very sleep deprived, messily holding his books and papers to his chest instead of in a bag. He let out a quiet gasp as he sank into his seat and set his load down, and immediately pulled out his phone inside his desk and started tapping away. 

_ Almost, _ Akira reminded himself. 

* * *

“So… how have things been?” Akira played with his napkin and tried to ignore the wiggling bag in his lap that was Morgana, undoubtedly trying to get into a better position to hear the conversation. He straightened his glasses and looked up at Mishima.

Mishima drummed his fingers on the table and sighed. He hadn’t touched his coffee. “I’m fine, I’m fine, Kurusu! Can I show you the list now?” he asked eagerly. Then he flinched. “U-Um, I’m sorry, I’m being hasty. Thank you for asking, it’s… it’s nice that you care,” he stammered. “Um… Here.” Without any warning, he shoved a packet of papers into Akira’s hands. 

Akira’s eyes widened as he flipped through it. Each page had a name, a location, and a picture, along with a brief description. It was hard for Akira to tell which would be good targets, because the descriptions were so vague.

“Wow…” Akira said slowly. “This looks like it was a lot of work, Mishima… please tell me you didn’t stay up all night working on this…”

Mishima scowled. “This was important! I had to get it ready for you in time for you to go this afternoon, and… it’s the least I can do,” he muttered.

Akira frowned. “Tell me about some of these people,” he offered. “I need a little bit of a bigger picture, if you don’t mind.” Akira sort of hated how formal he was getting now, but he wanted to be careful about getting too loose with Mishima, because… Wait, it sounded like he was starting to  _ believe  _ Morgana.

“Of course!” Mishima beamed, and snatched the list back from Akira and started going over it page by page. As he did so, Akira noticed a trend. Almost everyone he had picked out was a name that Akira himself recognized, either from a passing mention on the news, a movie poster in Shibuya square, or from overhearing the gossip in the Shujin hallways. It didn’t sit too well with Akira, not after their last mission, which had become a catastrophe because of this very problem.

“Mishima…” Akira didn’t know how to start. “These are all… well-known people. And that’s okay, of course, but I’d rather not pick targets in the interest public opinion right now, especially not now. Are there any, like… smaller names? Like a request from someone who genuinely needs help? What about all those people who were…  _ skittish _ , from yesterday?” Akira played with his sleeves, but didn’t break eye contact with Mishima.

Mishima blinked. “Uh… No, not them, they were only worth scaring away, they can’t contribute to our success. But as for smaller names… Yes, actually.” Mishima flipped to the last few pages of the packet and held it out to Akira. “Look here! These are a group of bullies that harass people weaker than them, and I’ve heard that they’re even dealing with some shady people!” Mishima sounded…  _ excited. _ Akira squinted at the pages, and noticed the name…  _ Akiyama. _

Akira’s heart sank.  _ Of course… _ Akiyama was pretty mean to Mishima, yes, but he didn’t strike Akira as  _ evil, _ or even really all that bad of a guy… It wasn’t hard to figure out Mishima’s intentions, though.

“You  _ have _ to change his heart, Kurusu!” Mishima stated emphatically, scooting closer to Akira. “For the good of society and everyone in it!”

“...Yourself included?” Akira blurted, then cringed as soon as he said it. ...A less than elegant way of starting down that path, but what was done was done.

Mishima shook his head. “Come on, don’t be like that! You saw how mean he was! A guy like that has gotta have a Shadow, right?” Akira noticed he sounded almost… pleading.

Akira glanced over the other names, and he vaguely recognized them as Akiyama’s friends and other associates, who Akira had seen… maybe once or twice, and had barely heard them say anything at all. Akira took a deep breath, and took the plunge again. “These people, too?” 

Mishima nodded. “Of course! They’re his friends, they have to be wrapped up in the same shady and evil business as he is!” Akira noticed he was leaning over the table further and further as he went on. Morgana shifted in Akira’s lap. “You’re a hero, Kurusu… and the other phantom thieves, of course. And heroes do the good thing, don’t they? This is one of those good things,” he declared. Mishima slapped his hand firmly on the table for emphasis. Akira got a growing sense that he was just  _ expected _ to agree with what Mishima said. 

This made Akira very uncomfortable.

“...Sure,” he said weakly, after a long pause.

Mishima sighed, and leaned back in the booth. “Look, even if you don’t go after Akiyama-kun, at least take down some of the other targets on that list. They’ve all gotta be wrapped up in something bad, and purging someone well-known is bound to boost your public opinion. You need that badly now, don’t you? I know you do.” He looked at Akira expectantly.

Akira wasn’t so sure they did. “...All right, Mishima,” he sighed. “I’ll… see what I can do.”

Mishima immediately jumped to his feet and held up his hand for a high five. “Great! Thanks, Kurusu, you’re the best! I know the Phantom Thieves are gonna get more popular after today!” he crowed. 

Akira gave him a weak high five back, and forced a smile.  _ “You’re _ the best, Mishima,” he assured. But to him, his words felt hollow and wrong… 

Mishima beamed. “I could stand to hear you say that a little more often!” He laughed. “

Akira felt a prodding on his leg, and glanced down to see that a small bulge in the bag on his lap kept poking him. He knew what Morgana meant.  _ Time to go. _

Akira stood up and slung his bag over his shoulder. Before he could even think about how to say goodbye to Mishima, he spoke first. “But, um, Kurusu… thanks. Really.” Mishima rubbed the back of his neck. “You really are a hero… I’m so glad to be the one to direct you, and you’re always so nice to me…”

Akira blinked. He hadn’t really expected this. He opened his mouth, but Mishima kept going. “You really deserve to have me helping me out, and… you’re just amazing,” Mishima breathed. 

“I-”

“Well, I should probably go, there’s lot of work to do! See ya, Kurusu! Don’t forget about my list!” Mishima beamed, then grabbed his laptop bag and hustled out the door.

Akira just stared helplessly. He was sort of flattered that Mishima thought so highly of him, but the way he was talking about it... 

Morgana poked him from inside the bag again.  _ “All right, all right,” _ Akira hissed, and left the diner to go someplace where he could talk to a cat less conspicuously. 

* * *

Akira set his bag down next to Untouchable and unzipped it. Immediately, out hopped Morgana, who promptly stretched and leapt onto a nearby trash can to talk so that he was closer to eye level with Akira. “...He sounded serious,” Morgana said after a thoughtful pause.

Akira sighed. Now that he had time to go over the conversation in his head, it really didn’t sound that great. But Akira nodded. “Yeah, he really is serious about the Phan-site…” Akira remembered something. “Months ago, after we took down Kamoshida and he started it, he told me that… it was the best way he could help us.” Akira stared at a broken bicycle that was tossed in a heap on the ground. He felt like the tension in the air was weighing down on him like a heavy blanket. 

“...Sounds like he sees it as a way to help himself, now,” Morgana said quietly.

Akira flinched. “That’s  _ not _ true!” he cried. “He wants to help people, I know it… he’s just sort of forgotten right now…” Even as he said it, Akira felt weak for holding onto his hope. 

Akira felt a gentle pressure on his head. He looked up to see Morgana reaching out a paw in an awkward attempt to offer reassurance. “He’s forgotten, so we can go make him remember again, right?”

Akira sniffled.  _ No,  _ he told himself. He was  _ not _ gonna cry. He just didn’t want to accept that someone he loved could be bad enough to have a Shadow…

“We can make him one of our Mementos targets,” Morgana repeated. “And we’ll help him, okay Akira? It’ll be okay,” he assured. 

Akira nodded. “I’m sorry I’m so… difficult, about this…” he mumbled. He still wasn’t fully ready to accept the idea that Mishima had a Shadow. 

Morgana purred comfortingly. “It’s all right, Akira, I understand, and I’m sure all the others will, too.” He jumped back into Akira’s open bag. “Now zip me up, it’s time to go home and prepare to embark!” he declared.

Akira bent down to zip up the bag and put it on, leaving a small hole this time for Morgana to peek out of. He liked that. 

“Maybe we’re wrong...” Akira mumbled, “Maybe we won’t even find a Shadow…”

Morgana got himself comfortable in Akira’s bag. “Uh, yeah, maybe…” he said quickly. 

Ignoring how placating Morgana sounded, Akira pulled out his phone. He’d gotten a text from Makoto, probably asking about the time of departure. 

He opened it, and was unsurprised to discover that it was exactly that. Makoto was so reliable. 

**Makoto:** When are we heading out? If we’re going to spend a while in Mementos, we should get ready sooner rather than later. 

**Makoto:** You did get the information we needed from Mishima-kun, correct?

Akira realized it would be lengthy and awkward to explain the situation via text, so he added a hasty reply and sprinted down Central Street as fast as he could to catch the next train home. 

**Akira:** I’ll tell you later. Let’s meet at Leblanc in 15. 

**Makoto:** Roger that. I’ll get the word out. 

* * *

Akira had a pretty good idea of what to expect when he opened the door. Makoto was always early, and Ryuji was often just too excited to wait long. But on the other hand, Haru ran late a lot because of commitments at home, especially these days, and Ann had a habit of forgetting exact times. So when he entered Leblanc about ten minutes after confirming with Makoto, he had been anticipating two, maybe three eager phantom thieves awaiting him in the attic. He had  _ not _ been anticipating was all six other phantom thieves all spread out around the cafe. Futaba was lying on the counter reading a manga, Yusuke was investigating the coffee maker, Ryuji and Ann were apparently trying to study, Makoto was just sitting as if deep in thought, and Haru was examining the painting of Sayuri on the wall. All of them looked over at the door when it jingled, catching Akira off guard. 

“...Where’s Sojiro?” was all Akira could ask. 

“He went home early. Must’ve known we were gonna be his only customers for the rest of the night.” Futaba yawned as she closed her manga and hopped down from the counter, scurrying up to Akira.

Ryuji laughed. “Some customers we are. Anyways, how’s things, leader?” he asked. “I’m itchin’ to go kick some Shadow ass today!” he said with a grin. 

Haru nodded. “I agree. I need an opportunity to blow off some steam…”.

Makoto stood up and smiled at Akira. Akira felt his heart flutter as he unzipped his bag, letting Morgana free to jump up onto the counter. He was so hopeless that being in the same room with all of the phantom thieves still made his heart race. 

“Good afternoon, Akira,” Makoto greeted politely but warmly. “I hope the conversation with Mishima-kun went well.”

Yusuke still hadn’t taken his eyes away from the coffee maker. 

Ryuji’s eyes widened. “Oh yeah!” he cried. “I totally forgot about that!”

Ann, who was sitting next to him, cringed at how loud he was being. “So did I, actually… I haven’t really been paying much attention to Mishima-kun… But I have noticed he looks a lot more… harried? If that’s the word for it.” Ann looked very uncertain, but fortunately for her Ryuji covered for her in his usual fashion. 

“I hope the dude’s okay!” he exclaimed. “After all, he does run the Phan-site…”

Futaba snorted. “The Phan-site… it doesn’t really seem all that important, does it?” she remarked. Akira wheeled to face her. “I mean… it’s not like  _ we _ actually made it, Nishima’s just a fanboy.” Futaba played with the zipper on her coat. 

“That’s not true.” Makoto’s practical and clear voice cut in. “Mishima-kun’s information is very helpful to all of us, the source notwithstanding.”

Akira winced. Hearing Mishima discussed in such a cold and pragmatic way hurt his insides. “...He’s a human being too, you guys…” Akira said quietly. 

Ann looked taken aback. “Of course he is, I-“ She stopped when she saw the look on Akira’s face. “...Akira? What’s wrong?” Ann hastily stood up, shoving aside Ryuji and coming over to Akira. 

Akira could feel his pulse quicken when she came close to him, and he knew he was blushing when she took his shoulder and sat him down in the empty booth, wide, concerned eyes looking at him. “I… sorry, it’s- I shouldn’t care, really..” Akira stammered feebly. “It’s just- Mishima was who I wanted to talk to you guys about…”

Instantly, Akira had everyone’s full attention. Even Yusuke seemed to snap out of his imagination, muttering something about the smell of coffee. “Oh! Akira!” Yusuke exclaimed, with a surprised, pleased expression. “I didn’t notice you come-“ He seemed to sense the tension in the room. “...My apologies. Please continue, Akira,” Yusuke said humbly, and folded his hands to listen. 

“What’s the matter with Mishima-kun, Akira?” Haru asked. She was clearly only trying to give Akira a helping hand, as Akira doubted Haru could even match a face to the name “Mishima”.

“W-Well…” Akira mumbled. “I’m… I’m worried that he- he might be…” For once, Akira couldn’t find the words he wanted to use to say what he was feeling. It was like all his emotions were welling up inside him, but they were clogging everything up so nothing could actually come out of him. “I… I…” he spluttered. 

Morgana, who had been silently observing for the entire conversation, suddenly hopped down from the counter and up on the top of the booth chair Ryuji was sitting in. “Akira and I are both concerned that Mishima may be distorted enough to have his own Shadow in Mementos. I observed him myself this afternoon, and he seems to be using the Phan-site, and by extension, us, for his own personal gain, to make himself feel powerful and to gain recognition. He’s handpicking our requests to either be famous people that will give us the most public recognition, or people who have wronged him personally who he wants revenge on. We’re going to go after Mishima today instead of any of these ‘requests’ he’s given us.” Morgana spoke matter-of-factly, like he was telling them the weather for that evening. 

Akira shattered inside. Hearing it laid bare like that, it was hard to deny that Mishima sounded pretty bad… And now they all knew. They  _ all knew.  _

Everyone was silent for a good minute before Futaba of all people spoke first. “...That may have been a little harsh, Morgana…” she said quietly, staring at the floor. 

Ryuji narrowed his eyes and raised his hand like a student in class. “Um, excuse me? Morgana?” he said with a shaking voice. “This is  _ supposed  _ to be unanimous, you can’t just say ‘we’re going’ and expect us all to agree with you, Akira is obviously not feeling good because of all this! Show some damn consideration for once!”

Akira buried his face in his hands. This was not going okay, they all knew and it was getting messy, oh god no...

Morgana bristled. “Well,  _ he _ clearly wasn’t going to be able to lay it out for us, so I had to do it!”

Ryuji was straight up yelling now. “Well you didn’t have to be so-“

“BOYS!” came the undeniable shout of Ann. Ryuji froze, and Morgana shrank back from her. “Would you please leave the arguing for later???” She turned back to Akira. “Akira…? Can you give us your input, please?”

Akira nodded and wiped his eyes. He wasn’t gonna cry here, either. “I… I just don’t think he’s that bad…” he stammered, even though he knew how weak it sounded. “I know he wants to help people, too, he’s just… forgotten, right now…” Akira dropped his gaze and started playing with his sleeves. 

“I am not very familiar with this Mishima, but he does strike me as the upstanding type… he did create an entire website just for us, after all,” Yusuke pondered. 

“Even though he is just a fanboy,” Futaba muttered darkly. 

“However,” Makoto interjected. “It would be irresponsible to ignore this completely. Consider what Ann has said about Mishima seeming different recently. Akira, can you confirm this?” she asked. 

Akira rubbed the back of his neck. “I… yeah…” He didn’t want to lie, and he  _ was _ worried. “He seems like he stays up way too late all the time, he’s always working on the Phan-site, and… disturbingly, he’s started threatening people who disagree about us…” Akira had to force himself to say that last part. That would almost certainly cement Mishima as distorted in everyone’s eyes. 

“...I see,” Haru said slowly. She had stood up and was slowly circling the kitchen. “That is rather concerning…” She had a sort of pained expression on her face. “I don’t wish to make you uncomfortable, Akira, but it really would be wise to at least investigate this further… We should help him, if he is in bad trouble, don’t you agree?” she pleaded. 

Akira nodded solemnly. He knew it would come to this. 

Ryuji leaned over his seat and awkwardly patted Akira on the shoulder. Akira’s heart did a little shudder at the touch. “Hey… It’ll be okay, man…” he assured. “We can help him, when we find him, right? We’ll change his heart, and make him better… because that’s what we do!” He said this last part louder, as if for everyone to hear. 

“Yeah!” Ann said. “We’ll help him, Akira… promise.” She gave him a reassuring pat on the cheek, which surprised Akira so much that he briefly forgot how awful he felt and just blushed crimson. 

“So…” Morgana said slowly. “Is it a unanimous decision, then…?”

“It must be done,” Yusuke stated simply. That was all that needed to be said. Everyone nodded, including Akira. 

“Then we had best be going,” Makoto ordered. “Futaba, we’ll need you working as hard as you can, since we have no idea where Mishima-kun could be. He could be in a layer of Mementos we cannot even access yet.” She started pacing up and down the room. 

“Ugh, that would suck…” Ryuji moaned as he stood up and started stretching in place. “Seriously, though, you all right, man?” Akira nodded quietly, which seemed to satisfy Ryuji. 

“Roger!” Futaba chirped. “Let’s get going.”

Akira pulled out his phone and opened up the Metanav app when Ann tapped him on the shoulder. “Hey…” she started. “Do you… wanna sit out today? I could stand in as leader for you, and this seems… very personal, I’m sure everyone would understand. Not to mention you just really seem like you could use a break, especially now that I can guess why you were so out of it this morning...”

Akira simply stared at her. Her eyes were gorgeous in the dim light. Sit out…? The idea had never even crossed his mind before now. Still, it did sound tempting… have a peaceful dinner at home, go to bed early for once, try and relax… 

No, no… that wouldn’t do. This whole thing technically came about because of him, and he had to help make things right, too… no matter how much it hurt. 

Akira shook his head, hiding the sorrow in his eyes reasonably well. “No… I could never. I have to go, it just… wouldn’t feel right if I didn’t. You know?”

Ann nodded and smiled sadly. “I had a feeling you’d say that. It was just like with me and Kamoshida, it hurt to be in that… that place, but I just… I couldn’t  _ not.” _ Ann quickly looked away. “Sorry, that got a bit personal, didn’t it?” She laughed nervously. 

“Guyyys…” Ryuji whined. “Let’s gooo…”

“I’ve been looking forward to this!” exclaimed Haru as she pulled out her phone. “Or… I was…” she added uncertainly. 

Ann gave Akira another smile that melted his heart as he typed the word “Mementos” into his Metanav. “Come on, let’s go! And… I’ll help you.” Ann looked determined now. “I’ll help you in any way that I can.”

Akira’s finger hovered over the ‘TRAVEL’ button. 

“All right Phantom Thieves, let’s go!” called Morgana. 

“...Thank you,” he whispered. 

He pressed the button, and the now familiar red of the Metaverse washed over him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little late (i fell asleep) but here it is! Things are getting interesting now... (and also more romantically charged but shhhhh)


	3. Chapter 3

Akira let out an involuntary sigh of relief as the subway entrance and turnstiles of Mementos faded into view. He fingered the buttons on his trusty coat and shook it off to make sure it hadn’t bunched up in the back. It was somewhat comforting at this point, even the mask that was now on his face felt familiar. 

_ “Welcome back to Mementos.” _ said the cool automated voice of the Metanav. With those words, Akira relaxed. Things may have felt rough, but now he was in his element, all of the Phantom Thieves were. And they were going to make things right. The dull pounding and echoes that drifted up from the depths created a driving force in Akira’s brain that stabilized his worried thoughts, making him feel at ease for the first time since Okumura’s mental shutdown.

“Alright.” Akira’s voice rang clearly throughout the room, and made everyone around him give their full attention. Even Justine, who was standing by the spectral gate to the Velvet Room, glanced up in surprise. 

_ “You’re back?”  _ she mouthed in disbelief. Akira simply gave a nod in her direction and turned back to his teammates.

“So, Akira, what’s the plan?” Haru, now in her old fashioned highwayman’s getup, asked. “Where should we start?”

“Hold a moment, Noir,” Yusuke cut in. “Who is this ‘Akira’ you speak of?” He said it like it was a rhetorical question, in his inscrutable way.

Haru blinked. “I don’t… Oh!” Her eyes widened with the realization. She swept her hat off into a deep, polite bow. “My apologies,  _ Joker.” _

Blushing at how proper Haru was being, the emphasis on the name reminded Akira that yes, he  _ was _ Joker here. He was cool, collected, and in control. 

_...And hopefully very handsome, _ Akira thought to himself before hurriedly sweeping those thoughts out of his mind and shifting back into “leader” mode.

“Let’s search thoroughly,” Akira decided. “Our target could be anywhere within Mementos, so better safe than sorry.” He didn’t want to use the name ‘Mishima,’ not right now.

Makoto nodded, adjusting the snaps on her costume, which was covered in spikes and had a long, flowing scarf that always seemed to flutter slightly. Akira had almost forgotten how badass she looked in here. “I agree, but hold a moment, it would not be smart to waste our energy on floors that do not matter. Oracle?” 

“Mmhm?” Futaba was holding her almost comically oversized goggles close to her face, peering into them intently at something only she could see. Her outfit glowed and pulsed green with her trademark sci-fi aesthetic. 

“Can you possibly narrow down Mishima-kun’s location from here?” Makoto called.

“Hey, wait a-” Morgana interrupted, but was interrupted in turn by Futaba.

“On it!” she chirped. A plethora of holographic green buttons, displays, and keyboards appeared in front of her, projected by her goggles, and she cheerfully began working.

“I could do it just as well,” Morgana pouted, and leaned against the wall, trying to appear casual, which wasn’t easy when you were a two-foot tall, very round, cartoonlike cat.

“Ha!” Ryuji snorted. “As if! You could never give us good info when you were the nav! All you did was ‘blah blah my senses tell me blah blah blah’” Ryuji finished his sentence by moving his hand like a mouth to accompany his insulting (but not entirely inaccurate, Akira conceded) mockery of Morgana’s high-pitched voice. It was kind of nice to see him in Skull’s outfit again after so long, it had become very familiar to Akira over the months.

“Skull, don’t be mean,” Ann chastised. Morgana, who had opened his mouth for a retort, stopped immediately the moment he heard her voice. Ann pulled her jacket over herself, the dark red matching her scarlet suit perfectly. “Hey, Mona,” Ann asked, raising a hand in placation. “Why don’t you get into your car form now, and get warmed up, so that when Oracle’s done, we can just get going?” She followed this up with one of her signature beaming smiles, and even thought Akira wasn’t the direct recipient, it still made his heart do a little tap dance.

Morgana deliberated for a moment or two, glancing between Ryuji and Ann, then rolled his eyes and sighed. “All  _ right,”  _ he huffed fake-dramatically. “But just for you, Lady Ann,” he added.

_ “Just _ Ann is fine, thanks,” Ann replied coldly as Morgana rushed off to the tracks to turn into a car, which Akira still didn’t get. Then Ann left, going over to join Makoto and Haru, who were looking over Futaba’s shoulder and trying to make sense of her scanner setup. They didn’t look like they were having much luck, and Futaba seemed very pleased about that fact. 

“God, when does he ever shut up?” Ryuji scratched his head absentmindedly. “He’s still calling you that too? What an ass.” Ryuji’s eyes were narrowed in his common glare. “God, I could just-”

“Skull, please,” Akira interjected calmly, and Ryuji immediately closed his mouth. “Let’s stay calm, okay?” Even though Akira’s heart was absolutely in shambles over how handsome Ryuji was in his jacket and neckerchief, his brain stayed level and could consider that having his teammates angry with each other would not do for their first mission in so many weeks. 

Ryuji unclenched his fists and nodded slowly. “I… yeah. Sorry, he just pisses me off sometimes… sorry.”

Akira put a hand on his shoulder, even though his heart was already screaming with emotional overload, Joker’s brain could see that it would be good to show Ryuji support. “I know,” he agreed. “Me too. But we can’t let that make us irrational, especially not right now.”

A grin made its way onto Ryuji’s face. “Yeah!” he agreed. “We’ve got a job to do, man!” He paused, and the grin faded slightly. “So, um… how you doin’?” he asked.

Akira grimaced. He had been trying not to think about the specifics of their mission. It was just another target in Mementos to find and change the heart of, and that was that. But oh, it was so much more than that. “I… don’t know,” he offered finally, his voice cracking slightly.

Ryuji frowned. “I… look, I don’t always know what to say, and that’s not gonna change, cuz I’m dumb, but just… take care of yourself first, my man, okay?” He patted Akira’s shoulder firmly with a reassuring smile. 

Nothing could stop a faint blush breaking onto Akira’s face. “...Thanks, Ryuji,” he said softly. It made him happy to have someone that cared. Well, of course he knew they  _ cared, _ it was just nice to hear it. 

Ryuji playfully punched Akira on the shoulder. “Hey, it’s Skull, remember?” he laughed.

Akira rubbed the back of his neck and chuckled. “Oh, yeah, I forgot.”

“You gotta work on that, man, I mean, you’re our leader!” Ryuji was totally grinning now.

“I know, I know…” Akira exhaled. Being Joker was very comforting, but Akira was happy to not have to be the intelligent, aloof leader all the time. Just most of the time.

“Aw, are you two having some bro time together?” Ann’s teasing voice drifted over as she walked over, her tall boots clicking on the hard concrete floor.

Ryuji and Akira quickly scooted away from her and faced Ann.

“Of course no-” Akira started.

“Yes!” Ryuji snapped. “Why do you care?” Akira blinked. That wasn’t what he had expected Ryuji to say.

Ann’s eyes widened at Ryuji’s aggressiveness. “I don’t!” she said indignantly. “I just came to tell you two that Oracle is finished, we’re going to get going now,” she huffed.

“Oh.” Ryuji relaxed. “...Sorry about that, I thought you were making fun of us,” he added awkwardly.

Ann giggled. “Well, to be fair, I kind of was, but I’m glad you’re both happy!”

“...Yeah,” Ryuji said slowly, unsure what to make of her attitude.

“Come on, Ryuji, she’s just teasing,” Akira consoled.

“Mhm.” Ryuji did not look convinced. 

“...I really am glad you’re feeling better, Akira.” Ann took a hesitant step closer to them. 

Akira started. “Me?”

“Yes, you!” Ann giggled. “I could see you smiling with Ryuji in the corner over there!”

_ “A-Anyways,” _ Ryuji cut in hurriedly. “We should probably get going, huh?”

“Oh, right!” Ann agreed. She put an arm around Akira’s shoulder, which made the romantic side of him go haywire. Her arm was soft and comforting. “Let’s go!” she beamed.

Not to be outdone, Ryuji slung his arm around Akira’s other shoulder, which sent the romantic side of him from haywire into hysterics. Ryuji's arm was strong and reassuring. “Yeah! Time to go to work!” Ryuji leaned forward to look at Akira and grinned.

Akira laughed nervously. This was starting to get too much, even for Joker. “Aw, you guys…” 

“I know, we’re overbearing!” Ann grinned. “You should be used to it!”

The three of them went over to the car, which was actually Morgana, but was also a car, with Ryuji and Ann leaning on Akira the whole way, and piled inside. 

“Sure did take you long enough,” Futaba pouted. “It’s stuffy in here when we aren’t moving.” She was sulking in the back of the van, hunched over a Game Boy she must have brought from home. Haru was looking over her shoulder with interest.

“Oh, be patient with them, Oracle,” Yusuke soothed from the front seat. “Flirting is a delicate procedure and takes time to do properly… if my experience with films and literature has taught me anything, that is.” He spoke very plainly, as if what he just said  _ wasn’t _ incredibly embarrassing.

“Fl-Flirting?” Ryuji yelled.

“We weren’t flirting!” Ann snapped.

Akira shook his head frantically. “We were just… talking,” he said feebly.

Yusuke flashed a small, irritatingly knowing smile. “Suit yourself,” he said simply, and turned back to face the front.

“If we can be  _ professional _ here…” Makoto reminded everyone, “Oracle couldn’t pinpoint a definite location for Mishima-kun’s shadow, but lots of signals are always being sent around in the lower levels, right, Oracle?”

“Mm-hm!” Futaba didn’t look up from her game. “There’s so much interference down there that it’s hard to get a clear reading until we arrive in person. My long range scanner is pretty unreliable anyways,” she admitted. Then she swore quietly and threw her Game Boy down onto her lap, leaning back against the seat in frustrated helplessness. Haru winced in sympathy and returned to staring out the window.

“See?” came the voice of Morgana from all around them. “I told you-”

Haru firmly smacked the floor of the car with the handle of her axe. “Hush,” she hissed.

Morgana hushed.

“So we will just have to search the long way for right now,” Makoto finished, pretending nothing had interrupted them.

“That’s fine with me,” Akira agreed. He was ready to just go and get this over with. 

“Hell yeah!” Ryuji shouted. “Road trip!”

“I certainly can’t complain about seeing more of this enchanting landscape,” Yusuke agreed.

“...You’re weird,” Ann declared. “But yeah, it’s kind of fascinating to look at…” she agreed.

“Then, shall we be off?” Haru offered. “I’m getting a bit restless…”

Futaba yawned. “Yeah. This is the longest it’s ever taken for us to just  _ go, _ even  _ counting _ the day I joined the team. ...We’re out of practice, huh?”

Everyone nodded. “Well, let’s go get some more practice, then!” Akira offered. He was overjoyed to finally be heading off, and he could imagine them coming home that evening with everything fixed and Mishima back to normal. He felt as though a weight had been lifted off of his shoulders, even though Ann and Ryuji were leaning heavily on both of them at that very moment.

Everyone let out a cry of assent. “Yeah! Go, Phantom Thieves!” Futaba cheered.

Makoto started the car, and they were finally off. “Be careful with me, you hear, Queen?” Morgana asked as they rumbled down the tracks. 

“Of course,” Makoto affirmed. They had driven for not five seconds before Ryuji jumped up and lunged to point out the window. 

“There!” he yelled. “Shadow!” Everyone perked up. “Can we make that our practice?” he asked eagerly.

“Oh, yes, let’s!” Haru agreed. 

The Shadow, which Akira could see out the window, appeared to have noticed their boisterous yelling, and was now running towards them. “Well, it’s about to be, whether we like it or not!” Akira warned.

Makoto maneuvered the wheel to steady the van. “Ready or not, here we go!”

“On my mark,” Akira ordered. “One…” The Shadow was almost upon them.

“Two…” The Shadow reared its mask-covered body to strike-

“THREE!” Akira cried.

The van doors flew open and the Phantom Thieves came flying out like they were shot from a rocket.

“HELL YEAH!” Ryuji screamed as he landed and whipped out his pipe weapon. “PRACTICE TIME!!!” 

Everyone burst out laughing, even as the Shadow changed form and prepared to fight back.

Akira smiled as he clutched his mask and pulled. This was  _ his _ place. This was his  _ element. _

“I’ve had… enough practice… for one day…” moaned Ryuji as he climbed back into the van. Ryuji promptly collapsed on the seat, huffing and puffing. Ann crawled in after him, huddling into her seat quietly. Finally, Makoto clambered into the front and grabbed the wheel once more. Her suit was sticky with sweat. Akira wasn’t faring too well, either. His coat had gotten torn, he was exhausted, and worst of all, he was filled with something besides tiredness - doubt.

“Still no success?” Yusuke asked, fanning himself with his hands.

“Of course not,” Futaba grumbled, lazily poking at her displays. “It’s been hours, why would this fight have been any different?”

“I was only asking,” Yusuke sniffed.

“Ugh, we took a damn beatin’ that time, too…” Ryuji groaned.

Makoto put her foot on the gas and swerved left sharply.  _ “You _ may have,” she scolded, “because you’re  _ incredibly _ reckless.”

“Aw, come on, Queen-  _ OW!”  _ Ryuji yelped sharply. Akira whipped around to see what the matter was, and saw Ann leaning over Ryuji and withdrawing a shot of Takemedic that Akira had saved from their last mission. 

“Hold  _ still!” _ Ann said sharply. “I can’t do it properly if you’re squirming so much!”

“Hey, hands off!” Ryuji snapped, shoving Ann away from him and crossing his arms in front of his chest. His face was bright red. Ann’s eyes widened, and she quickly scooted away from Ryuji.

Haru looked affronted. “Skull, she’s only trying to help you...” Haru looked the least worse for wear out of all of them, holding herself very properly in her seat, her axe laid across her lap.

“Yeah! Show some respect to Lady Ann, Skull!” Morgana yelled gleefully from all around them. 

Akira pinched his car seat.  _ “Quiet,” _ he ordered. He knew Morgana was just trying to egg Ryuji on.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” Ryuji shouted. “I’m sorry I’m a little upset that we’ve been at this for  _ four hours  _ and  _ nothing’s happened!” _ Ryuji threw up his hands in frustration. “I just wanna find Mishima and get this over with, is that too much to ask?!” He glared at everyone around him before going back to stewing in his seat.

Though Akira didn’t like how angry Ryuji was being, he had to admit he was saying what Akira was thinking. They had found a big fat nothing so far, and it was starting to worry Akira quite a bit. The doubt formed a knot in his chest. “Calm down, Skull,” he soothed. Ryuji grunted.

Futaba closed her display and pulled her goggles off. They left little red lines on her face from how long she’d been wearing them. “Stop whining, Skull, we’re all tired,” she sighed.

“You’re one to talk, all you do is just sit up there in your UFO and do fuck all!” Ryuji yelled.

Yusuke covered his ears.

“HEY!” Ann shouted suddenly, jumping up from her seat and standing up as well as she could in the cramped van.

Ryuji jumped and wheeled around to glare at Ann. “What?” he demanded.

“Don’t be so mean, Ryuji!” Ann pleaded.

Makoto raised a hand. “Codenames, Panther,” she reminded.

“To HELL with the codenames! This is important!” Ann yelled, eyes still dead set on Ryuji. 

Makoto shrugged with, Akira saw, a hint of a smile. “Fair enough,  _ Ann.” _

“We all do our part, let’s not vent our frustrations on our own teammates!” Ann continued, waving her arms wildly in agitation. 

Yusuke tentatively removed his hands from his ears. “If I may interject,” he asked, “I’d just like to add that fighting amongst ourselves will accomplish nothing towards the current objective, and will only serve to ignite our flames of anger further, which would be counterintuitive for all of us, and would only further prolong our time here,” he stated plainly.

Ann closed her mouth and just stared at Yusuke. “You… said that much better than I ever could have,” she gawked, and promptly deflated, plopping back onto her seat next to Ryuji.

Akira had just been watching this whole time, and realized that as the leader, he probably should say something. “Look, you guys, I understand this is frustrating, but we have to stay focused here… Mishima’s-” Akira winced- “Shadow can’t be far now, right, Oracle?”

“You said that two hours ago…” Futaba mumbled, but she halfheartedly threw her goggles back on and fiddled around with them. After a minute or two, during which Ann and Ryuji whispered to each other and scooted closer, Futaba sighed and took her goggles off again. “For the hundredth time, Akira, I can’t pick up his signal anywhere… if his signal even  _ exists,” _ she grumbled.

Makoto leaned back to look at Futaba, still keeping both hands on the wheel. “Oracle, we’re sorry,” she soothed. “We’re just… as anxious to get this over with as you are, and if you can’t find anything, then maybe he’s not even here,” she reasoned. 

Akira let out a quiet sigh of relief. Maybe he had been right all along, and Mishima wasn’t distorted in the first place.

“But he  _ has _ to be here,” Morgana added, “There’s no way he couldn’t be…” He trailed off uncertainly.

“Who asked you?” Futaba muttered. “If I can’t get a reading on him, then there’s no way he’s here.” she said flatly.

“Excuse you, I can  _ sense _ him!” Morgana cried indignantly.

“Yes, but are you as unbiased as Oracle’s sensors?” Makoto cranked the steering wheel to the right.

There was a pause. “...Yes?” Morgana answered.

Futaba scoffed. “As if. You may be a Metaverse cat, but I have Necronomicon.”

Akira stuck his hands out in a “stop” gesture. “Look, guys, I don’t care WHO finds him, I just wanna  _ find _ him, ok?”

Futaba opened her mouth, but before she could say anything, a booming voice came from outside the car. “AND FOUND ME YOU HAVE!!!”

Akira blanched, and threw open the car door, sticking his head out to look outside. A well-dressed man with perfect black hair was grinning at them. “Of course, the FAMous Phantom Thieves, come to steal my heart at last. I suppose it couldn’t be avoided, could it? I’m simply  _ too  _ well known _ not _ to attract some… unwanted attention.” The man wiggled an eyebrow coolly. Akira noticed the black mist rising up from around him.

“Who the fuck are you?” Ryuji snapped, sticking his head out the window.

The Shadow looked aghast. "You  _ don't know _ who I am? I am a master of finesse, intrigue, and power, I am-"

Futaba didn’t even glance out the window as she messed around with her displays. “Yeah yeah, we're sure you're very evil, but can you shut up for a minute?”

_ "Shut up?"  _ The Shadow’s face contorted into an almost comical mix of anger, indignance, and disbelief.  _ “SHUT UP?” _

Akira sighed and rubbed his temples. This was too much, all the nerves and exhaustion from the past hours had caught up with him, and the doubt in his chest was starting to push its way up his throat and threaten to spill out of him for all to see. “I really,  _ really _ do not have time for you right now-” he groaned.

The Shadow straightened. "Nonsense! EVERYONE has time for me! Now do what you came to do and fight me!" 

Yusuke popped his head out of the window. “Can't you see he's very bothered right now? Please leave us alone, we're quite busy,” he called politely.

"NEVER! I will  _ kill _ you for insulting me in this way!" the Shadow screeched.

“He’s really not here, Akira,” Futaba cut in quietly, showing him her display. “I promise you, he isn’t.” She glanced at him, worry ghosting across her round eyes. 

Akira buried his face in his hands and slowly massaged his cheeks, leaning his elbows on his knees. “Okay,” he said meekly. “Thank you, Futaba, I’ll- I’ll think of someth-”

“COME AND FIGHT ME, COWARDS!” came a bellowing voice that almost shook the car.

Haru sighed and picked up her axe. She opened the car door and stepped out, giving Akira a reassuring pat as she did so. Akira’s muscles tensed at the touch, but his heart softened.

“If you please,” Haru was incredibly polite. “Stand down now, and we'll make this quick, so no one has to waste any time, okay?” She wrung her hands almost anxiously, but Akira knew she was completely confident.

"Of course not!” the Shadow held himself up to his full height, an imposing five foot two, by Akira’s estimate. “I am worthy of a glorious battle, not meek submission!!! After all, I  _ am- _ "

Ryuji rolled his eyes, following Haru out the door and standing behind her, brandishing his pipe and scowling. “Yeah, don't care. Let's get this over with so we can go home, thanks.”

Makoto suddenly shifted the car into “Park” and unbuckled her seat belt. “I’d better go too,” she realized. “I have to make sure those two don’t get themselves killed.” She adjusted her outfit and glanced Akira’s way. “...Are you all right, Joker?” she wavered.

Akira simply nodded, face still in hands. Mishima’s words from earlier echoed in his head, reminding him of what was at stake. He had to keep it together, he had to be the leader, he had to fix these problems, he had to find Mishima’s-  _ no,  _ screamed his brain.

“...Can we get some support over here, quickly?” Makoto called. 

Akira felt several rustlings behind him as three warm bodies came close to him. Akira could almost sense the worry.  _ No, no, this wasn’t good, they shouldn’t worry about him, they shouldn’t- _

Akira picked his head up just in time to see Makoto give him a warm smile and squeeze his shoulder comfortingly. “It’ll be okay, Akira,” she ordered. 

A small explosion shook the ground beneath them and created a blinding flash of light through the windshield. Makoto glanced in the direction of the Shadow, and, evidently, Ryuji and Haru. “...I’ve got to run,” she decided. “See you guys in a bit.”

“Bye Queen,” Akira monotoned. 

“Bye,” Ann called.

“Farewell,” Yusuke murmured.

“Mm,” came Futaba, who was already nestling herself in Akira’s shoulder.

Makoto sprinted away, leaving the door wide open. A split second later, all of the could hear the roar of an engine, and muffled screaming from the fight far away.

Yusuke, Ann, and Futaba huddled around Akira, and while he liked the comfort, his emotions and his intelligent brain were already getting too intertwined as it was, and this wasn’t helping him sort out his thoughts. Fortunately, everyone seemed to sense that talking would be a bad idea right now, which Akira appreciated immensely. Joker had to think, and it was Akira’s job to let him.

Akira jumped as his seat suddenly pitched to one side. He looked around to see what was happening, and saw Ryuji and Haru climbing back inside the car. His eyes felt heavy. “Wha’s going- oh.” Akira yawned. Wait, yawned?

“Look who’s a sleepyhead today,” Ann chided. Akira glanced at her to see her lean her chin on his shoulder and settle in like she belonged there. Akira had no problem with that attitude.

“...Sleepyhead?” Akira echoed. He blinked. “I guess I am... kinda tired…” Where had Ryuji and Haru come from…? Right, they had been fighting that egomaniacal Shadow… 

Yusuke’s eyes widened. He was in the corner of Akira’s vision, holding a book and a pencil. “Oh, wait, please don’t move!” he cried. “I’m nearly finished, you looked very picturesque right there, and I did want to do  _ something _ to alleviate the nerves of the past few hours.” He dropped his gaze back to his sketchbook.

_ Right. _ Akira recalled everything in a matter of seconds. The long, tiresome drive, the many pointless battles, the worry and the doubt, oh boy, all that stuff. Akira slumped in his seat, sliding down slowly until he felt his feet touch the front of the car. What was he even supposed to do…? 

Ryuji stretched and collapsed on the entire middle seat. “Man, that guy was  _ nothing!” _ he crowed. “He talked big, but he barely  _ touched _ us! Right Haru?”

Akira picked his face up slightly and looked at Haru, who was settling down in the back seat. Her face was flushed and she looked pleased. “Indeed,” she said breathlessly. “That was quite a show of mastery, wasn’t it? However, I am… quite tired…” She promptly flopped onto her seat in a similar position to Ryuji. 

“Hey guys…” Akira called. He tried not to let the tiredness show in his voice, but that was hard. It also probably didn’t help that he was lying down on the front seat like he was about to pass out.

“Hey, man!” Ryuji glanced over at Akira and frowned. “You tired or somethin’?” he asked.

Akira hurriedly picked himself up and sat somewhat upright on his seat, facing Ryuji fully. “No!” he lied. “...Yes,” he said after a short pause. “But I’m good, I can keep… going…” Akira trailed off with a big yawn that felt like it split his face wide open.

“Can you quit moving around? I need a  _ little _ space!” Akira glanced down and saw Futaba huddled by his legs underneath the dashboard, working on something with her goggles. She scowled up at Akira.

“What are you doing up there, Oracle?” Haru called from the back.

“I’m just running one last scan to be absolutely  _ sure _ we aren’t missing anything!” Futaba yelled back to her.

Yusuke sighed. “Please don’t yell in the car,” he pleaded.

“Yeah, show some respect!” Morgana piped up. Ryuji snorted.

Akira pulled his sleeves down. “So, what’s the plan? Are we gonna keep searching or should we just go home?” An uncomfortable silence fell over the car.

Ann, who had been quiet for the past while, suddenly spoke up. Her gaze was downwards. “Well, I think-”

“We’re leaving,” declared a voice from behind Akira. Makoto clambered into the driver’s seat, holding something bundled up in her scarf. There were a lot more scrapes and tears in her outfit than either Ryuji’s or Haru’s. “Now,” Makoto sat down and got ready to drive.

Everyone reacted at once. Ryuji’s eyes were bugging out. “Where were YOU?” he gawked. Haru looked stricken, eyes wide. Ann immediately scooted over to make room for Makoto, Futaba hurriedly got out from the bottom of the car, looking at Makoto worriedly, and Yusuke was just staring. Akira, on the other hand, was mentally berating himself.  _ How the  _ shit _ did I not notice she was missing? _ he thought. He had been pretty out of it already, and he was exhausted… Still, that didn’t excuse anything. “I’m sorry, Makoto, I…” Akira said feebly.

Makoto’s expression softened about a single degree. “It’s all right, Akira, I understand you’re under a lot of strain right now. We  _ all  _ are, myself included.” She directed this last statement at everyone in the car. 

Haru didn’t know what to do with her hands. “I-I’m sorry, I assumed you’d be right behind us… and then I just lost track…” She put her head down and huddled up in her seat.

Ryuji still looked surprised at Makoto’s sudden entrance. “I, uh… where even were you, anyways?” he asked. 

Makoto sighed, and held out her scarf, which still had something wrapped inside it. “You two adrenaline junkies forgot to actually  _ take _ the treasure,” she scolded.

Ryuji slapped his forehead. “ _ Oh. _ Sorry, knew I was forgetting something!” he grinned. “Anyways, let’s see! What is it?”

Makoto thrust the bundle into Akira’s hands without warning, and Akira almost dropped it. “No,” she said flatly, without even a glance at Ryuji. “Maybe just once, we should treat the object of people’s personal feelings with some decency.” Makoto started the car.

Akira looked down at the wrap in his lap. Through the scarf, it felt… cold, and hard, and a little heavy. Ann, Ryuji, and Yusuke peeked over his shoulder with wide eyes. Makoto was right, honestly… taking treasures may be good, but they didn’t need to dwell on it, this  _ was _ such a deeply personal item for somebody. Akira stuffed it into his jacket, scarf and all. “Not today,” he said simply.

Ryuji flopped back down onto his seat. “Aw, come on!” he cried. “That guy was a huge dick! You’re just mad that we forgot about it,” he accused. Makoto shook her head silently.

Yusuke quickly looked away. “Of course, you both are absolutely right, ahem- undoubtedly. I do wish I could have seen it, though...” 

Ann just patted Akira’s shoulder. He felt a little silly for making such a big deal about it, but maybe it was just that he felt really pulled apart today. Besides, this was just a distraction to the real issue at hand, and the feelings that were rising up within him. Akira and Joker were getting too close in his head for his liking.

“HEY!” came Morgana’s voice. “Where are you taking me, Queen?” he demanded.

“Out of here,” Makoto replied. “There is absolutely nothing for us to see, least of all Mishima-kun.”

There were murmurs of assent from everyone in the car. The car, however, had other ideas.

“Wait- but-” Morgana spluttered. “He  _ has _ to be he-”

“Oh,  _ save it, _ Mona,” Futaba growled. “I have told  _ you _ a thousand times, I have told  _ Akira  _ a thousand times, Nishima is  _ gone. _ ” She pulled her Game Boy out of her pocket and settled down in a corner, as if to show that was the end of discussion.

“But that’s imp-”

“SAVE IT!!!” yelled every single exasperated, exhausted, and cranky teenager in the car.

Morgana saved it.

Something dreadful was dawning on Akira. “...Futaba?” he asked.

“Mm?” Futaba didn’t look up.

“By ‘gone,’ you mean that he’s changed on his own, right?” 

Futaba blinked. “Well… yeah,” she said slowly. “Cuz… you told us he didn’t seem that bad, so maybe it was just…”

“A false alarm,” Makoto finished. 

“Exactly.”

Morgana tried to speak again. “I beg to diff-”

Haru smacked her side of the car with her foot. “You do not get to speak anymore, Mona-chan,” she ordered. “Give it a rest,  _ please.” _ She returned to looking over Futaba’s shoulder.

“Yeah…” Ann trailed off. “If he’s not here, then I don’t know what else to say…” Akira noticed she looked lost in thought.

“I’m gonna be completely honest, I’m probably biased because I really just wanna go home and take a bath, but, I mean, come on!” Ryuji grinned. “It’s Mishima, he’s strong, right?”

Akira nodded absently, but he couldn’t help but think that that kind of attitude was what put them in this situation in the first place…

“So, we’re all okay with leaving?” he finally asked.

Everyone nodded. Even Morgana, who Akira expected to protest, said to himself: “Well, if he really  _ isn’t _ here, then… I suppose…”

Akira exhaled for the first time in what felt like hours. “Great. Let’s… let’s go home,” he offered.

A cheer rose up from everyone, albeit a much more tired and less enthusiastic one. 

Akira’s shoulders felt like a huge weight had been taken off of them. He stretched and straightened up, only now realizing how atrocious his posture had been. Even so, he felt… uneasy. Very uneasy. The doubt that had been stirring within him for the past few hours wasn’t gone just yet, he knew, only dormant. 

Akira pondered everything that had happened that day. He’d be 100% doubtless about Mishima being perfectly okay, if it wasn’t for the conversations he’d had with him recently, and just the way he had been acting, it felt… off… Maybe it’s-

_ No, _ Akira told Joker.  _ It’s… no. _ Akira firmly shut the book on all his trains of thought. If everyone agreed that Mishima was fine, then Mishima was fine. ...Although they weren’t exactly the best judges of his charact-  _ stop that. _

“Joker?” Makoto asked from beside him. “Wait, no,  _ Akira. _ We’re through with our mission, I can call you that now.” She seemed relieved. 

Akira picked his head up quickly after realizing he had let it drop, and looked over at Makoto. “Yes?” he replied anxiously.

“...How are you? Holding up?” Makoto kept her gaze between Akira and the windshield.

Akira flinched. He looked back at the others in the car. Yusuke was daydreaming out the window, Ann was on her phone, Ryuji was looking over her shoulder, and Futaba and Haru were still thoroughly engrossed in the Game Boy in the back. Morale seemed to have increased greatly once they got the word to turn around. Seeing them all there, at ease, made Akira feel just a little bit better. Still, as they drove upwards, toward the surface, Akira couldn’t help but feel like they were leaving something important down there, something that they had barely grasped.

“Yeah, Makoto… I’m holding up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this took way too long to finish and i'm not even entirely happy with it... but i can't see any way to improve it so here it is anyways. i hope you enjoy it, and that it's not too... messy! thanks for bearing with me and my slow as fuck pacing


	4. Chapter 4

Yuuki Mishima checked his phone for the tenth time that evening. He sighed when he yet again saw no message from Kurusu, laying his phone back down on his desk. He had to look hard to see it, because the only light came from a streetlight outside his window. 

He checked the clock. 11:03. It was getting really late, and he had been expecting Kurusu back about two hours ago, at least. 

Yuuki sighed and sank down into his bed, before immediately getting up and going back to his desk. He had to keep working, he had homework, and more importantly, the Phansite had had a serious uptick in comments that evening, which meant a ton of work sorting out the useless ones. 

Yuuki slowly opened his laptop. His eyes were heavy, but that was nothing new for him. He had work to do. 

As he halfheartedly opened a few tabs to research the Sengoku period for history class, he spent more effort on the Phansite, as usual. Ugh, there were so many horrible people here… It made Yuuki sick. Hateful comments, pointless requests, it was all a blur as Yuuki swept them all out of sight. 

As Yuuki kept working on his responsibility, he also gave some thought to potential new targets for the Phantom Thieves. Hopefully they had made a dent in that list he had given them, but it was always a worthwhile task to find more promising candidates, especially since they needed public support desperately now. Yuuki had to help them get it. 

But god, where was Kurusu??? Yuuki was partly upset about the radio silence, but he was also worried… had something happened?  _ No, absolutely not, _ Yuuki remembered. Kurusu was  _ way _ too skilled for anything to happen to _him_.   


Yuuki banged a fist on his desk.  _ Kurusu must have just forgotten about me, _ Mishima realized. That was the most obvious conclusion to be made. He couldn’t be upset, though. Kurusu had important stuff to do… Yuuki was mostly sad. Sad that  _ he _ wasn’t as important… And from the sadness came his resolve. Yuuki held his fist on the desk and grimaced, before straightening up and returning to work. 

Yuuki glanced at his face-down phone one more time, and considered sending a text to Kurusu himself, but he couldn’t bring himself to even pick up the phone. He tore his gaze away and tried to focus. Kurusu may have forgotten about him, but here, on the Phansite, Yuuki could make his presence known to all, and they would have to listen.

Just the way Yuuki liked it.

* * *

Akira woke up on something hard. Had he fallen asleep on the floor again? He sleepily picked his head up, wondering where the fuck he had passed out. His memory after waking up was not the best… to say the least. 

Okay, not on the floor, but his pillow had fallen off the bed and he was sleeping on a bare mattress. Not the worst place he could have ended up. 

The attic was brightly lit with mid morning sun streaming through the single window. Akira had a brief moment of panic that he would be late for school, but exhaled when he realized it was Sunday. 

That was good, because Akira felt like he hadn’t slept at all. Going into the Metaverse always exhausted him, but this was a whole different level.

Akira slowly sat up on the edge of his bed and rubbed his temples. With how mentally and physically taxing the last day had been, Akira could almost think of it as just a bad dream. 

...And it might as well have been, Akira thought to himself. Everything was okay, right…? Mishima hadn’t been there, so that meant everything was fine. 

Akira laughed to himself, trying to keep it from sounding too insane, and pushed his hair out of his face. Yeah, everything was great.

He considered simply staying in bed all day, it  _ was _ Sunday, and he was exhausted… 

Akira sighed. No, he couldn’t do that. That was a lame thing to do, and he was kind of hungry. He also wanted to go see Mishima, he had been thinking about going to check on him ever since they realized he wasn’t in Mementos. It would be nice, they could maybe… go somewhere together? 

He checked himself out in his phone camera. His hair was even messier than usual, he hadn’t even bothered to put on his pajama shirt, so he was just in his brown sweatpants, and he wasn’t wearing his glasses, so he looked like a nerd. Akira could fix one of those three things very easily, and grabbed his glasses. 

Sojiro shouldn’t be in, because the cafe was closed on Sundays, so Akira went to go downstairs to grab some breakfast. Or would it be lunch, this late in the day? It didn’t matter. 

As Akira went down the stairs, he noticed the bare table near his landing and wondered where Morgana had run off to. He was usually either on that table or sleeping on the bed. 

Akira didn’t have much time to wonder, though, because he heard voices from downstairs. A split second later, he was momentarily blinded by the full lights on in the cafe. 

Akira put a hand over his face to give his eyes time to adjust. When they did, he saw every single one of the Phantom Thieves (and Sojiro, he noticed) staring right at him. 

He wasn’t wearing a shirt. 

Someone whistled.

Akira stood frozen, wanting to yell what the fuck they were all doing here, but he was focused more on the fact that he was standing in front of all his crushes AND his dad barely dressed and half awake. 

Panic mode engaged, and Akira sprinted back upstairs. He threw on the first shirt he could find, hearing everyone giggle from behind him. 

“Aw, come on!” Akira could hear Ryuji complain. Akira could feel his face getting incredibly hot. It went quiet downstairs again, except for some whispers, and Akira was sure they were still giggling about him. A lot of questions ran through his mind, but he didn’t need to waste time worrying about it when the answers were right downstairs.

He crept back to the stairs and peeked down. Everyone was in a huddle talking to each other with the traces of smiles still present on their faces. Akira felt a small twinge of wistfulness, but quickly shook it off. He couldn’t afford to dwell on that right now.

Yusuke was the first to notice him, and raised a hand in greeting. “Akira!” he called. Everyone looked up. “I apologize on everyone’s behalf for intruding into your home, but…” He didn’t finish his sentence.

“Hi Akira!” Ann chirped. “How did you sleep?” She was sitting at the counter with an open book in front of her, but all of her attention was turned on Akira, with that beaming smile of hers.

Akira took a few cautious steps down the stairs and rubbed his eyes, brushing his hair out of his face again. “...huh?” he asked. He knew what Ann had said, but he couldn’t really think of what she  _ meant. _ Akira really needed to work on his morning brain.

Ann giggled. 

“That bad, huh?” Ryuji grinned. “Well, we’ve been waiting here a while, but if you wanna go back to sl-” Futaba smacked him on the shoulder. “Hey!” Ryuji yelped. “What did I-”

Futaba put a finger to her mouth impatiently. “Shhhh!” she hissed. 

What was going on? “Uh… No, I don’t need to go back to sleep…” Akira said. He shook his head and leaned on the wall by the bathroom.

“Oh dear,” Makoto said. “Haru, are you nearly finished over there? It appears we’ll need your help right now.”

“Of course!” came Haru’s voice from the kitchen. “Akira, I have coffee for you!” she sang.

...Why had Akira never thought of that before? He liked coffee, but it had literally never occurred to him that it might help him wake up in the morning. “...Thank you!” he exclaimed.  _ Why had she bothered…?  _ Akira wondered as he went over to the kitchen, where, sure enough, Haru was with two cups of coffee. Akira noticed that she had stained her jacket, but she was still incredibly cute.

“You know, you could have just asked me to do it,” Sojiro commented. Akira glanced over as he gratefully took a cup from Haru. Sojiro was leaning against the counter with an almost fond smirk on his face. “Nice punk shirt, kiddo.”

Akira looked down at his shirt and realized why he had never worn it in Tokyo before. It was a shirt of one of his favorite rock bands when he was a few years younger, so not only was it a little bit small, it was embarrassingly outdated. Akira blushed and distracted himself by taking the first sip of coffee.

Almost immediately, he felt a little more alert. He straightened, looking around the room at everyone while the question he’d been wanting to ask finally surfaced in his mind. 

“What in the world are you all  _ doing _ here???” he blurted, a little too loudly. Everyone looked away from him, except Sojiro.

“I’ve been wanting to know that myself,” he said, looking at all the other Phantom Thieves. “I mean, when I came over here to grab the leftovers I had forgotten last night, the last thing I was expecting was a crowd of bright-eyes teenagers huddled around my front door!” He chuckled.

“Sorry, Boss…” Ann looked downcast.

Sojiro shook his head. “No need for any of that. I’m happy to welcome any and all of you whenever you need- within reason, of course,” he added quickly. Akira laughed nervously. “As long as Okumura-chan here makes sure not to spill the beans,” he added pointedly.

Haru looked stricken. “Wh-What do you mean?” she asked timidly.

“Coffee beans, of course.” Sojiro laughed. “No need to be so tense, guys!” He put his hands on his hips and surveyed the room. No one said anything. “All right, I get the picture,” Sojiro said finally. “The old man’ll be out the door in half a minute. You kids… do whatever it is you needed to do so damn badly.”

“Thanks, da- Sojiro,” Akira gagged on his coffee as he caught his little slip-up. He’d been doing that quite often lately. Everyone else followed up promptly with a chorus of thanks.

“Sure thing,” Sojiro said as he put on his coat. “Well, I’m off. Don’t eat everything in the kitchen while I’m gone, I have customers Monday morning.” Akira heard Futaba snicker quietly.

With a short glare in her direction, Sojiro whisked himself out the door and shut it, with the familiar jingle of shop bells. As the lock clicked behind him, an uncomfortable silence filled the room, only broken by Ryuji loudly tapping his fingers on the table absentmindedly.

Akira waited for someone to say something. No one did. A couple of them looked like they were trying, Ann even opened her mouth, but she closed it shortly and put a hand to her chin, thinking. Akira took a sip of his coffee, trying to relax, but he couldn’t bear the awkward silence anymore. He gently put his coffee cup on the counter, and stood up from leaning against the wall.

“May I say something?” Akira asked quietly.

“O-Of course!” Makoto said. She was squeezing her hands nervously in her seat in the far booth.

_ “What are you all doing in my house???”  _ To his credit, Akira did  _ try _ not to raise his voice, and he did succeed in not yelling, but that had come out a bit more… pointed than he had intended. He couldn’t help it, he had a lot of nerves right then and… he was worried it was something bad. 

He looked around. Everyone’s eyes were wide. 

“Excellent work with the coffee, Haru,” Ryuji stammered.

“Yeah, he’s definitely more awake now,” Futaba agreed.

Akira had to try very hard not to laugh at that. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Makoto give a short nod in the direction of the others, and Ryuji and Futaba got serious again, with Ann straightening at the signal. 

“Akira…” Ann avoided looking him in the eye. A trickle of unease crept down Akira’s spine. “...Morgana has something to tell you.”

Akira had forgotten about Morgana, to be completely honest. But he clearly had not forgotten about Akira, because when he jumped down onto the counter from wherever he had been lurking, he looked abnormally serious.

“Morgana?” Akira echoed. A knot of dread was making its way into his stomach.”...What is it?”

Morgana did the opposite of Ann. He looked directly into Akira’s eyes, to the point where it made him uncomfortable. “...Akira. There’s… really no easy way to say this, so I’ll be blunt,”

Akira felt like he was about to cry. “Please just tell me, please…”

Morgana looked taken aback. “Well, I, um…” He looked around pleadingly at the others.

“Mishima has a Palace, Akira,” came Futaba’s voice. It cut through his anxiety, his nerves, his tiredness, all of it, and struck right at the roots.

Akira blinked. “...What?” he said very, very softly. There was no way. Absolutely no way. “No way,” he echoed his own thoughts. “There’s… no way.”

No one said anything. Akira glanced around, and they were all either not looking at him at all or looking at him way too much. Easier to not pay attention right now. 

Akira was trying desperately to not let the idea sink in.  _ He knew. _ He knew all along, deep in his heart, that that was the case. The doubt, the creeping dread he had felt in Mementos. That was what it was. He had been  _ afraid. _ Mishima was too messed up, too  _ obsessed _ to just magically be okay, and Akira had known it. In fact, Akira realized… he had known it better than anyone.

_ No. _ Akira snapped back into focus, causing everyone to jump. “Akira…?” Morgana called.

Akira suddenly jerked around, fumbling in his pockets for his phone. “Look, I’ll show you guys,” he said, trying more to convince himself than them, “He can’t have one! I promise you, he can’t!” Akira couldn’t prevent a slightly hysterical edge from creeping into his voice as he shook his head frantically. He pulled up the MetaNav app on his phone. It still suggested Mementos from the previous evening, and Akira frantically swiped it away, only interested in the search function. His phone was shaking.

“Akira…” 

Was that Ann’s voice? Or Haru’s? Hell, maybe it was Ryuji’s, for how not-present Akira was. His hands trembled as he typed out the name  _ “Yuuki Mishima”  _ into the search bar. 

“Akira, please…”

Akira could vaguely feel himself slumping into a seat on the counter, his finger shaking above the “Find” button. He couldn’t bear to find out, but he also couldn’t bear  _ not _ to find out. He screwed his eyes shut, and pressed the button, knowing in his heart what it would say.

_ “Candidate found.” _

* * *

Disaster. 

That was the extent of the sensation that flooded through Akira’s brain, deaf to the world around him. He had fucked up! He had been careless, he had done  _ something  _ wrong, he had to have, this had to be… his… fault…

Akira could feel himself get to his feet, only with the thought that he had to get  _ out _ of there, just for a little bit, like… forever…

Two very firm pairs of hands took hold of Akira’s shoulders and pulled him backwards, sitting him down between them. Akira blinked, dispelling the tears that he hadn’t realized he had been shedding. He was sitting (or rather, being forcibly held) between Ryuji and Yusuke, and they both were staring at him with nothing but concern in their wide eyes. Haru, Ann, Makoto, Futaba, and even Morgana crowded around, with equal worry on their faces. 

And then Akira couldn’t help but cry again, but for relief this time. “How… How could I have forgotten, even-“ he sniffled “-even for a little bit.”

“Forgotten what, Akira?” asked Haru softly. Her arm was around his neck in a loose, comforting position. 

“That… you guys are here!” Akira exclaimed. He wiped his nose. Suddenly, he felt very different. 

“I’m- I’m sorry I’m being all, like, like this, but…” He stopped. “Is that why you  _ all _ came over here?” he asked. 

Futaba snorted. “Well… yeah,” she said, like it was obvious. “We all knew you would be pretty broken up about it, considering he’s basically your boyfriend-“

Akira blushed deeply, and did a sort of laugh-cry where the laugh turned into a sniffle halfway through. 

_ “Futaba,”  _ Makoto scolded. “...And, yes, Akira, um… I’m so sorry I was so inactive, I just… I froze up, I didn’t think I would be helpful at all…”

Akira was about to discourage that line of thinking when Ryuji piped up from right next to him. “Aw, don’t be so down on yourself! It was all of us, anyways! I just thought I would fuck things up even more by saying something at the wrong time or somethin’,” he mumbled. 

“That would be a possibility,” Ann agreed. 

“Hey!” Ryuji’s eyes narrowed as his eyes snapped up to look at Ann. 

“Only kidding!” she conceded cheerfully. She cupped Akira’s cheek in her hand. “You okay, Akira?”

Akira's mind was reeling from the tender contact. “Are you guys just being nice to-“ he sniffled, “-to make me cope with this better, or are you just nerds?”

Yusuke and Haru both said “Both are possible!” at the same time, then looked at each other and smiled. 

Futaba draped herself over the back of the booth the boys were sitting in, landing her head right in Akira’s lap. “You know, you guys can let go of Akira now. I think it’s safe to assume he’s not gonna run off.”

Akira hadn’t even realized Yusuke and Ryuji were still holding his shoulders, but their touch had turned from a death grip into a more comforting pressure. Both reluctantly slid their hands off. 

Akira sat there for a minute of two, trying to process everything that had just happened. Mishima had a Palace. That was an indisputable fact now. Also, Akira had been a fucking careless dumbass to let this happen. Technically speaking, that wasn’t fact, but it might as well be. And as if all that wasn’t enough, he was now the center of attention for six of his crushes all at once. And Morgana. 

_ Talk about a mixed bag,  _ Akira chuckled to himself. 

“...I’m sorry, Akira.” Haru finally broke the silence. Akira looked up at her to see her looking very morose. 

“What on earth for?” Akira sniffled again. 

“I’m just… sorry…” Haru said slowly. “This must be very hard for you, and I’m… sorry I couldn’t have done more in that moment...I just want to be able to help you through this…” She was leaning over the booth and staring at the coffee cup on the table instead of Akira. 

“I think we all feel the same way, don’t you?” Yusuke added. His hand had returned to Akira’s shoulder, but so casually that it made Akira’s heart flutter. 

“Yeah!” Ann chirped. “We’re gonna make this work!” she asserted. 

She was so cheerful that Akira almost believed her. But the fond smile on his face soon faded, and he was back to thinking… less happy thoughts. 

“Who was it who found out?” Akira asked after a long, not quite awkward silence. Ryuji and Futaba were fighting for headspace in Akira’s lap. Akira pretended not to notice. 

Ryuji suddenly made to straighten up, to Futaba’s delight. “Oh, uh, that was actually, uh-“ he fell and banged his knee on the table before quickly scrambling up and sitting upright again,  _ “-fuck, _ uh, me. It was me.”

Akira raised his eyebrows. He had to admit, Ryuji was not the first person he had expect to think twice about the whole affair. Or even the third person. 

“...What made you think about it?” Akira asked. He focused on rolling the sleeves of his embarrassing rock band shirt up and down. Everyone else was silent. 

Ryuji glanced around quickly before realizing he was meant to elaborate. “Oh, uh, well, I mean… I like Mishima,” he started. “I don’t exactly know ‘em all that well, but… he’s a… good guy, and I…” Ryuji rubbed the back of his neck and laughed nervously to himself. “I was just, well, thinking about it, and…” Ryuji tapped his fingers on the table, reaching for the right words. “If he really is, well, going through so much hurt, like you said he was, then… isn’t it our, like, responsibility to help ‘im?” Ryuji looked at everyone, hoping for some response. Akira saw Futaba mouth  _ “Damn” _ in his lap with wide eyes. 

Ryuji blushed. “And, like, pretentious shit like that. Sorry, I didn’t mean to get all…” Ryuji struggled again. “Personal,” he decided. 

“...Oh, Ryuji,” Haru breathed. “That’s so admirable of you.”

“She’s right,” Makoto said. “That’s truly wonderful, Ryuji.”

Ann sighed. “It reminds me of the simpler time, when we were just doing our thing  _ because _ it was the right thing-“

“And I am still in your debt for that,” Yusuke added. 

Futaba looked almost pissed off. “God, Ryuji, you’re making the rest of us look bad in comparison,”

Ryuji looked back and forth between everyone, a little surprised. 

“Still love you though,” Futaba added quickly. 

Akira wanted to just lean forward and kiss Ryuji right there, but not only would he actually die, he was also just in a kind of sad mood, so that would be a pretty shitty kiss for both of them. “That’s… That’s wonderful, Ryuji,” Akira finally said. 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever!” Ryuji snapped, but he was still blushing. “Anyways, the  _ point _ is, I checked the nav on a whim, and… there he was.”

Ryuji suddenly looked dejected. “God, I don’t even know what to think about the whole thing… It doesn’t feel right.”

Akira nodded quietly. 

Haru had went over to the counter to pour another cup of coffee. “I truly don’t know Mishima very well at all, but I still worry about him…” 

“How is he, Akira?” Makoto asked. “You’re definitely the closest to him out of all of us, what’s he up to?”

Akira thought. “Um…” he pulled out his phone again, quickly closing the nav app and opening his web browser to check the Phan-Site. Of course, it was still as alive as ever. “He’s been working hard, that’s for sure…” Akira said. He brought up his messages, too, and saw one from Mishima. Excited, Akira opened the thread, and… nothing. Akira sighed. That meant he had sent something, probably late at night, and then deleted it immediately. The notification still showed up, but Akira was now going to worry. Even more now that he knew Mishima had… a Palace…

Akira could feel the tears about to start again. He wiped his eyes, and Makoto put her arms around his neck over the back of his booth and leaned her head on his shoulder. “We’ll make it work, Akira,” she ordered. 

Akira nodded silently, trying to fight the tears again. 

“So, um…” 

Morgana, who had been silent for the whole time, finally spoke. He was sitting on the table, trying to look important. “...Are we going to do this?”

Akira blinked. He had thought that was a given.

“I mean, we all know the rules, unanimous decision and all that…” 

Everyone nodded, and everyone was looking at Akira. He thought about it. It was certainly tempting, to just… forget about the problem, keep hanging out with Mishima, have things stay normal. And… he didn’t want to change his dear friend’s heart. It already felt weird doing it to villains (and Futaba, though she had just been a stranger at the time), but to someone so close to him…? He didn’t know how he felt about that. 

But… it was idealistic of him to think that everything would turn out great if he just ignored the problem. More than likely, Mishima would just get worse and worse, and Akira didn’t want to see that either. 

“...Yes,” Akira said quietly. “Yes. The mission is go,” he ordered. Akira could feel Joker starting to creep into his voice. It felt good. Comforting, even. 

Morgana nodded. “All right. A unanimous decision?”

Everyone nodded solemnly, even Futaba, still in Akira’s lap. 

“Finally, some direction,” Akira heard Yusuke whisper to himself. “Let us get to work!” he called. Akira nodded. Though… there was something he had to say first.

Akira shakily got to his feet. “I’m, um… sorry, everyone,” he stammered. “I’ve been irresponsible, and difficult, and… blind, and it just made everything worse. I’m… sorry…” Part of Akira felt stupid for saying all this, but he felt really bad about everything he had done.

Akira looked around at everyone. Ann bit her lip and sighed. “Akira, if I didn’t feel so bad for you, I would  _ slap _ you right now,” she fumed. “It’s  _ not your fault!” _

Akira was not enthralled about the idea of getting slapped, for sure. “I- I just think I could have handled this better-”

“Akira,” Yusuke interjected from the seat next to him. “May I say something?”

“Y-Yes, of course, Yusuke.” Akira was getting increasingly frazzled.

“Do be quiet.”

Akira blinked. “But-”

“Ann is right, Akira, this sort of thing would make anybody upset. I’m sure if I was in your position I would have behaved the same.” Yusuke’s hand was still on Akira’s shoulder.

Akira couldn’t fathom how they were all so readily discounting his actions. “But, guys, I-”

A hand came up to Akira’s mouth and covered it. Akira looked down to see Futaba, still lying in the spot where his lap had been, glaring up at him. “Look, Akira. None of us had even considered that Mishima could have a palace at the time. You tried your best in Mementos, and you’re still a good leader in my book. Now, will you please shut up about how 'bad' you are?” She used exaggerated air quotes around the word "bad".  


“Yeah!” Ryuji agreed.

Haru placed another cup of coffee on the table in front of Akira. “Akira, there’s no use trying to convince us that you did something wrong,” she told him.

“Because, to tell the truth, we won’t listen,” Makoto agreed.

Akira blushed. He still wasn’t  _ fully _ convinced, but he felt… better. “...If you guys say so,” he said slowly. There was one thing he really felt like he needed to do, though. “But… I do want to apologize to, um, to you, Morgana.”

Morgana’s eyes widened. He stopped licking his paw and looked at Akira. “Me?” he asked.

“Yeah… I was… not the greatest to you for a while because I was stressed and upset about… well, everything.” Akira took a sip of coffee to avoid looking Morgana in the eye.

“Oh… I mean, it’s okay, Akira, I mean, I wasn’t really the nicest about it, either…” Morgana said quietly.

“No, no, you were being practical. I wasn’t, or I was being very uncooperative about it. I’m sorry, and now that things are at least  _ certain, _ I’m gonna try my hardest to keep from… doing anything like that again.” All the words came out in a huge rush. Akira folded his hands and sat down again to signify he was finished, taking care not to sit back down on Futaba’s face.

“...It’s okay, Akira,” Morgana said again. “I understand.”

“...Thank you,” Akira said. 

“And, um, Akira?” Makoto said almost timidly. “We’re… on your side here.”

Akira nodded. He knew that, he had always known that, but now that their goal was certain, and he had spilled his feelings out for all of them to see, he could finally take comfort in having full support.

“And… I’m on your side, too. All of yours.” Akira said.

Everyone nodded. There was silence, not awkward, just… a comfortable silence.

“Alright, enough sappiness from everyone,” Ryuji growled. “How’re we gonna do this thing?”

Akira came back into focus, ready for some real action. 

_ I’ll save you, Yuuki. _

* * *

“Did you discover any of the keywords last night, Ryuji?” Makoto asked. They had moved to the table setup in Akira’s attic, the more official spot for Phantom Thief activities. Ann was flopped on the sofa, Makoto and Haru were sitting next to each other thinking hard, Yusuke and Ryuji were sharing a bag of chips, and Futaba was sitting on the bed. Morgana was staring at Ann’s lap longingly.

As for Akira, he had pulled up a chair, but had yet to sit in it, as all he was doing was pacing around the room, deep in thought. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Futaba following him with her eyes, her head drifting back and forth like she was watching a tennis match with a very lazy ball.

Ryuji sighed and leaned back in his chair. “Nope. I tried, believe me, but… I’m no good at all this damn symbolism stuff, it makes my head hurt sometimes,” he sulked.

Akira sympathized. The Metaverse was… weird, and very often unpredictable. Whatever Mishima’s palace was, it wasn’t likely to be something obvious.

_ And you’d be the one to know, _ Akira berated himself,  _ because you know him best. So THINK! _ Akira rubbed his eyes and wracked his brain. He had to do… everything he possibly could for this. Everything.

“Well, wouldn’t it make the most sense to start with the location first?” Ann proposed. “There’s no point trying to figure out what the distortion is if we don’t know…  _ what _ is distorted… Does that make sense?”

Haru nodded. “Of course! Now, what do we know about Mishima-kun…” 

Ryuji threw up his hands in frustration. “God, we’ve done this how many times? You’d think we’d be better at it by now!”

Akira tried to focus. What places were important to Mishima? Well, there was Shujin, of course, that was a possibility… There was his house, maybe, but that didn’t seem like it would get them anywhere… Wait a minute. Akira paused in his pacing to consider. Almost all of his and Mishima’s talks and discussions about the Phantom Thieves came from the diner in Shibuya… It was quite a self-centered idea, but… Akira couldn’t overlook it.

“Could you… maybe try the Shibuya diner…?” Akira asked Makoto. He tried not to look too self conscious about the idea, just act like it was a random, casual guess.

Makoto raised an eyebrow. “Sure thing,” she replied, and typed it into her phone.

_ “No candidate found,” _ came the cool female voice of the MetaNav. Well, it was worth a try.

“Why did you suggest that, Akira?” Haru asked. She had folded her hands on her lap and was looking at Akira with polite interest.

Akira turned to her, a little embarrassed. After he had broke down at the realization of Mishima’s palace earlier, he wanted to avoid losing his composure in front of everyone again. He had to be the leader, from now on. “Um, well, it’s just… a place I see him around a lot, and we talk there too, sometimes. Just thought it could work.”

Haru nodded, then furrowed her brow again. “I’m, um, sorry, I wish I could be of more help, I just… Again, I don’t know very much about Mishima-kun… I may have seen him in school a few times, but I don’t believe we’ve ever even spoken…”

“Aw, it’s okay, Haru…” Ann said gently. “You couldn’t have known…” Haru still looked troubled, but she returned to thinking.

Morgana nodded. “I think the only one of us who really knows him closely is Akira,” he observed. Futaba snickered quietly behind Akira’s back. He pretended not to notice.

“So why am I not _getting_ anything?” Akira said through clenched teeth, more to himself than the others. He continued wracking his brain for significant locations, but kept coming up with insane ideas or repeats. This was getting extremely frustrating.

Morgana raised a paw uncertainly. “Why don’t we try-”

_ “Candidate found,”  _ came the voice again, but this time from behind Akira.

“The Phansite.” Futaba breathed. Akira whipped around to see her, eyes wide, stand up from Akira’s bed and run over to the table, tossing her phone down in the center of it. Akira scrambled over to get a better look at her screen, and sure enough, the next category of the search function had opened,  _ “Nature of Distortion.” _

“Holy shit…” Ryuji gasped. 

Ann sat up quickly on the sofa and leaned over the table. “Wow, you got it… Man, that’s really impressive, I would never have thought of something so… metaphorical.”

“Agreed,” Makoto said. “Well done, Futaba.”

Akira, meanwhile, was kicking himself for not realizing this sooner. He had been so hung up on physical locations that he hadn’t even considered… this. By far the most obvious idea. “What made you think of this, Futaba?” Akira looked over at her.

Futaba still looked surprised. “Honestly? I was just screwing around. I remembered you mentioning how obsessed he was with this site, and I thought to myself: ‘What the hell? It could be!’ Turns out… it was.” She scooped her phone back off the table, after checking to make sure everyone had seen.

“The Phan-Site…” Yusuke mused. “Isn’t that his project that gets us the Mementos requests…?”

Akira nodded. “Yeah. He started it as a way to help us, but now he’s definitely using it more to help… himself…” Akira swallowed, and kept going. “Futaba, you’re really a genius, this is what he’s been focusing all his time and energy on, especially in the past few weeks…” 

“But what would he think of it as?” Morgana pondered. “It’s not a physical place, so it’s going to be difficult to decide what it is to him…”

Everyone murmured in agreement as they went back to thinking. Akira was pretty sure he had an idea of what it was, he just needed to find the specific word. 

“Okay, I’m just gonna throw out some ballpark guesses, and hopefully one of them will be right,” Akira told everyone.

“Ready and waiting,’ Makoto replied, poising her fingers over her phone keyboard. 

Akira took a deep breath. “Office.”

_ “No candidate found.” _

“Mansion.”

_ “No candidate found.” _

Akira clapped his hands together. “Castle?” Then he gagged. Comparing Mishima to Kamoshida, even in this indirect way, felt... dirty.

_ “No candidate found.” _

Akira turned in his spot with frustrated energy. “What about just… palace?” Ryuji asked.

_ “No candidate found.” _

Ryuji shrugged. “Worth a try.”

Makoto looked up from her phone across the table. “Wait a minute. Akira, I think you might have been on the right track with the office idea. If… what I’m assuming about him is correct, of course.”

Akira nodded. He had been thinking the same thing. “If he uses the Phan-site for himself, using… using  _ us _ for himself, then…”

“Maybe he sees himself as the leader of it all, or…”

_ “Manager,” _ Akira realized.

Makoto clapped her hands.  _ “That’s it. _ And then if he’s a manager, that would mean he would see the Phan-site not as just his office, but more like…"

"Something bigger, for all things Phantom Thieves, like... a base, or..."

Akira’s eyes widened. Both him and Makoto said at the same time:  _ “Headquarters.” _

_ “Beginning navigation.” _

Everyone blanched. Akira was just shocked that it had worked, let alone the idea that it was starting  _ now, _ and they were going into the palace of his dear friend.

_ I’m not ready for this. _

“You guys are way smarter than me,” Ann said dizzily. It was the last thing any of them heard before Akira’s head started to swim, and the Metaverse began to fade into existence all around them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow, it's been a while, hasn't it? super sorry about that, i had really bad burnout and then i was super busy for a couple weeks, but now i'm back! hopefully to stay, at least for a while. hopefully this makes up for my absence because this is the longest chapter, currently. some new developments, because yes, this is another one of *these* fics. thank you all for bearing with me and my excruciatingly slow pacing. i don’t know why i’m like this either.


	5. Chapter 5

As Akira Kurusu felt the Metaverse closing in on all sides, he tried to force Joker to show himself, but the stress from that morning and the overwhelming exhaustion weighing on his body made it difficult. That wasn’t good. If he couldn’t get his brain into Metaverse focus-mode, he’d have to come to terms with the idea that this was _Mishima’s_ palace, and he’d have to see… everything, soon. Akira’s mind flooded with images of what it might look like, and he was too anxious to open his eyes.

“Uh… where are we?” Ryuji sounded completely lost.

Akira’s eyes snapped open at his voice. That’s right. Whether Akira or Joker, he was their leader first and foremost. Time to start acting like one. 

Akira straightened, moving to the front of the group, and gazed all around in disbelief.

The whole area they were in was a dull grey, and mist swirled around the floor and curled at their feet. The ground beneath Akira felt… barely solid, almost like if he jumped up and down he would fall right through into who knew what beneath them. The area was very dim, the only light coming from a mostly blank screen in front of them. The screen was huge, stretching from the floor all the way out of sight. 

“I don’t understand… is this the Palace?” Haru asked. “Where do we… go?”

Ann was pushing up against something to their right. “I think there’s a wall here,” she declared. “I can’t… see anything, but we definitely can’t go this way.”

Makoto was up against a similar invisible barrier on the left. “Here too,” she called.

“And here, unfortunately, I can go no further,” said Yusuke from a few yards back, whose first impulse had been to go backwards rather than towards the huge, intimidating screen in front of them.

Futaba, on the other hand, had done the opposite, and immediately ran right up to the screen. She was still standing there, gazing up at it intently. Akira ran over beside her. “What is it, Futa- Oracle?” Akira asked, putting a hand on her shoulder to let her know he was there.

Futaba didn’t say anything, she just kept staring at the screen. There was text on it, bright white text that was casting the only light in the room. Akira stepped forward a few paces to make it out:

“INCOMPATIBLE ACCESS DATA. ADMIN ACCESS REQUIRED. OVERRIDE DISABLED.”

Above the message were a bunch of jumbles of words, numbers, and a whole lot of semicolons, for some reason. It was total gibberish to Akira, but if he knew anything about Futaba, he knew that she understood it perfectly.

Akira heard the others coming forward from behind them. “Whoa…” Ryuji gasped.

“What is this thing?” Morgana asked. Akira felt a small sense of satisfaction about Morgana being puzzled about something in the Metaverse.

“This is a firewall.” Futaba finally said. 

“A… fire wall?” Yusuke asked. “I can certainly tell that it is a wall, but I see no fire… or are you speaking in metaphor?”

“No!” Futaba snapped. “Listen, a firewall is a website term, it’s used to block access from certain people, or restrict features, or just any security measures related to user access.” She said this impatiently, like she was explaining something simple to a stupid child who had heard it six times already.

“But I thought the Phan-site was open for everybody,” Ann frowned.

“So, what, the real palace is just behind this screen?” Ryuji sauntered up to it and tapped it a few times with his knuckles. “It sure don’t seem too solid, maybe we could just break it!” Without waiting for an answer, he hefted his pipe and wound up for a home-run swing.

“Wait!” Morgana cried. “Don’t be stupid, Ryuji!” 

Ryuji let his arms drop with a sigh. “C’mon? Why not?”

“Because I don’t think we’re actually in the Palace at all,” Futaba hissed. “I don’t know what’s behind this screen, but I don’t think it’s something we want to see!”

Ryuji backed away quickly. “Geez, chill out,” he said with wide eyes. “No need to scare me like that.”

Akira was puzzled. “How could we not be in the Palace? We entered the keywords and had his name right… didn’t we?”

Futaba nodded. “We did, but we don’t have the right permissions,” she said matter-of-factly.

“...What?” Ann asked.

Futaba sighed. “If this really is the Phan-site, then wouldn’t it make sense that it would be the original version?” She paused for a moment. “You know, like, the source code and stuff that he updates and types away at constantly, according to Joker.”

Akira understood so far. “But… what does that have to do with anything?”

Futaba bit her lip. “It _means_ that his editable version of the site is accessible to him and only him. If anyone else tried to get into it, by hacking or other messing around, they wouldn’t be able to.” Futaba stepped towards the screen and tapped the message on it. “In fact,” she called. “They’d probably be redirected to an error page, very similar to this one.” She turned back to the group, looking quite pleased with herself. 

Everyone stared.

“So…” Yusuke said slowly. “What you’re saying is… this is the palace’s... redirect page?” 

Futaba nodded. “Mmhm!” She pulled up her goggles. “Aren’t you glad you have someone like me around?” she said smugly.

Akira nodded. “Like I said, Futaba, you’re a genius,” he told her, feeding her ego just that little bit. “So basically, we’re not in Mishima’s palace at all, but a different… dimension, if that’s the word?”

“Looks like it,” Makoto agreed. “I mean, everything except the screen in front of us seems very… insubstantial,” she noted.

Ryuji rubbed his neck. “This is makin’ my head hurt…” he grumbled.

Ann nodded. “I kind of agree…”

Morgana looked thoroughly vexed. “Wait wait wait,” he said. No matter how many times he saw it, Akira always had to do a double take, seeing Morgana back in his round, cartoonlike cat form in the Metaverse. “That’s not… possible! There can’t be more than one dimension in a palace!” he cried.

“Well, then why don’t _you_ try smashing through this screen and see what’s on the other side?” Ryuji snapped. _Still bitter,_ Akira guessed.

Morgana backpedaled, both figuratively and literally. “L-Let’s not be hasty!” he said. “I just mean… Mishima’s distortion must be really strong for it to produce something like this…”

Akira tried not to think about how concerning that was. He had to focus. 

Makoto nodded, adjusting the straps on her biker’s outfit. God, she was pretty, Akira thought. Then he shook his head. He had to _focus._ “Well, Mishima-kun views the Phan-site as something he has full control of, right? It would only make sense that it would be really difficult for anyone _besides_ him to get inside.”

Akira nodded. “Well, that leaves the obvious question… How do _we_ get in?”

There was a murmur of agreement. 

Futaba raised a hand. “I think I have an idea about that, too. But it’ll be kinda tricky, and… I think _maybe_ we should discuss it somewhere more comfortable?”

Akira had almost forgotten they were even in the Metaverse. He gazed around him once more at the dark enclosure. “...Yeah, good call,” he agreed.

“Might as well,” Ann said. “I mean, we can’t exactly do much here right now, can we?”

Ryuji nodded. “Good enough for me, this place gives me the creeps…” 

Akira had to agree. As he pulled out his phone to leave, he couldn’t help but be relieved at the reprieve, just a tiny bit. On the other hand, though, this meant more time to think about (and stress over) the fact of Mishima having a palace, and the ideas of what it might look like.

“Well, we’re leaving, then?” Haru asked. “That’s, um… probably for the best, I am still quite drained from yesterday’s exertions…” she admitted.

Everyone nodded sheepishly.

“Of course we all came over to help you, Joker, but I don’t think any of us _really_ expected to be charging into a palace right away,” Makoto said. “So… this is _definitely_ for the best, Noir.”

Akira nodded. He couldn’t deny it either, he was exhausted, and Joker was, too. “Well, let’s not stick around longer than we have to. Let’s withdraw,” he formally told the group.

Akira pressed the “Leave Metaverse” button on the MetaNav, and soon, they were right back in Sojiro’s attic, like nothing had ever happened.

* * *

“Well, that was probably our shortest infiltration ever,” Ryuji yawned. “Can’t say I’m too upset about it, but still, a little disappointin’, huh?”

Ann nodded. “Yeah… But I _am_ pretty tired…”

“I think we all could use a day off, so this was definitely welcome,” Yusuke sighed gratefully.

Akira couldn’t agree more, but he also felt disappointed that they couldn’t have done more right then. He just wanted to fix this as quickly and as best as he possibly could… but the growing sense of weight in his muscles reminded him of how frustratingly limiting the body could be. Akira sat heavily on the wooden chair by his bed, stretching himself out and rubbing his eyes.

“So, Futaba…” He paused to yawn. “What was your idea about how to get in…?”

Makoto leaned forward in her seat with interest. She had taken off her jacket and slung it over her chair. “Yes, I’m interested too, just… Do promise that we won’t go in again today? We shouldn’t overexert ourselves, especially with such a… delicate mission,” Makoto glanced at Akira.

Futaba nodded. “Oh, of course, I mean, I’m tired as hell too, but this idea does require a bit of work here in the real world.” She stretched and flopped onto Akira’s bed. “We gotta get his laptop,” she finished.

Akira blinked. “His laptop?”

Yusuke sat up in his chair, leaning his chin on his hands with interest. “Why would we need-”

“Shshsh!” Futaba hushed. “We need admin access, right? We can’t just access the Phan-site from any old place or it’ll consider us a guest, so we need to access it from the place that the admin uses it from, and that would be his laptop.” She mimed a grabbing motion, emphasizing her point.

“So you’re saying… We have to _steal_ Mishima-kun’s laptop?” Makoto clarified.

Akira shook his head frantically. “No. No no no. I’m not going to steal from… him. I can’t… I can’t _do_ that,” he said pleadingly. Stealing was something they did to _bad_ guys, not… But wasn’t he a bad guy now? And they were going to steal his heart anyways, what was one more thing to steal? Akira rubbed his eyes. This was already incredibly stressful, and they hadn’t even technically been _in_ the palace yet.

“I know,” Futaba said, far more softly than Akira expected. “We aren’t gonna _steal_ from him, Akira, I’ll just need about… ten minutes? Yeah, ten minutes alone with it. I’ll be able to download his version of the Phan-site and put it on my computer, and then I can run it myself, to trick the authenticator into thinking we have admin access, and we’ll never have to do that again, we can just use my computer instead. How’s that sound?” She was clearly directing the last question at Akira, who was intensely relieved.

“That sounds good,” he sighed. 

“How do you know that will work?” Yusuke asked, frowning. 

“Because I don’t have any better ideas,” Futaba replied matter-of-factly. 

Makoto hummed. “It would be difficult to keep his laptop for a long time without being suspicious anyways… He barely ever lets it out of his sight, even at school, when I see him in the halls…”

“Which makes sense, I guess,” Ryuji added, getting to his feet and stretching, clearly antsy. “The site’s, like, his life’s work, pretty much, right? Or at least, he thinks it is. I know I wouldn’t wanna let my guard down around something that important to me…”

Akira was marvelling at how introspective Ryuji could be when Ann raised a hand. “Uh… I don’t mean to ruin the mood, but how are _we_ going to get our hands on it? Even for ten minutes, like Makoto said, I always see him within arms reach of the thing at school… he uses it during lunchtime a lot too…”

Haru held up a hand. “Hold on!” Everyone looked up. “Say that again, Ryuji, please?” Haru asked.

Ryuji, who had been quietly pacing in his spot, looked confused. “Me? Uh… I wouldn’t wanna let my guard down around something that important to me? Right…?” he said uncertainly.

“Right,” Haru said with an affirming nod, standing up. “He won’t want to let his guard down, so we have to have something to let his guard down _for_ him,” she finished.

Akira was thoroughly puzzled. 

Futaba snickered behind him. “Or… someone?” she ventured.

Haru beamed. “Exactly, Futaba-chan!”

Akira was suddenly nervous.

* * *

 **Akira:**...Mishima?

 **Mishima:** Kurusu!!! I was a little bit worried about you last night, did everything go okay?

 **Akira:** yeah, it went pretty well, thanks for asking.

 **Mishima:** Great! How many of my requests did you get done?

Akira winced. He had guessed this question would be coming, and he really truly did not want to lie, but he doubted Mishima would take kindly to “none” as an answer. Reminding himself that this was a boy who had a palace, he pushed on with the plan.

 **Akira:** a few. It was a pretty tiring evening, so it might be less than you’d hoped.

 **Mishima:** No need to be so modest, Kurusu! I’m sure you and the other phantom thieves did so much!

 **Akira:** Yeah… hey, listen, I wanted to ask you something.

 **Mishima:** oh, what is it

 **Akira:** Do you… want to come be with me at Leblanc this afternoon? It’s starting to get colder out and I thought you might want a nice cup of coffee, and maybe we could talk about stuff?

In the five minutes it took Mishima to respond, Akira kicked himself for everything, his phrasing, his word choice, the length of the text, everything. He knew he must have fucked up somewhere, but just as he was about to slam his phone down and go panic in the bathroom, it buzzed again. 

**Mishima:** wow… um… thanks, Kurusu, I, um, when were you thinking?

Akira exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding. 

**Akira:** i mean… i could get the place ready in an hour or so, so if you’re not busy…

 **Mishima:** I’m busy a lot, but I can definitely come in an hour! ...is that ok?

 **Akira:** Of course it’s ok! See you then!

Akira shakily put his phone down and started pacing erratically around the attic, sitting down on his bed only to instantly stand back up. He was losing his mind. He hated being underhanded like this, but Futaba had asserted that it was the only way. And he knew she was right. 

It had started to rain. Akira was glad everyone else had gone home before now so they hadn’t got caught in it, but on the other hand, now Mishima would be walking over in the wet, chilly evening. Akira felt bad about having him do that, so he went downstairs to check if there were any curry ingredients in the fridge. 

“Should I come too?” Morgana asked, jumping up on the table by the stairs as Akira moved to go downstairs. “For moral support?”

Akira shrugged. “I mean, it’s not like I can stop you, just don’t expect me to respond to you…” Akira didn’t really care if Morgana was there one way or the other, and this still was his house, he was allowed to come if he wanted to. 

“As long as the plan works, I guess it doesn’t matter,” Morgana agreed. 

“Considering how excited Futaba was, I’m pretty sure it will,” Akira said grimly.

* * *

“Where’s Futaba?” Sojiro asked. Akira jumped. He had been busy, checking the fridge, getting coffee beans, tidying up the tables, hiding all his magazines under the counter… He could get pretty obsessive when someone he knew showed up at Leblanc for the first time. Akira remembered the time Goro Akechi had shown up at the cafe with no warning, prompting, or, seemingly, reason for coming there. Akira had panicked and hid in the kitchen for at least ten minutes, and by the time he had calmed down, Akechi was already leaving. Come to think of it, Akira wondered, Akechi hadn’t come by in quite some time… What could he be doing…

“Hello? Where is Futaba?” Sojiro repeated, slightly more crossly. Akira blinked. He had to remember to focus. “Oh! She went home,” he said with a straight face.

Sojiro frowned. “I didn’t see her leave…”

“She left before everyone else.”

Sojiro narrowed his eyes in Akira’s direction. Then he noticed Akira’s almost obsessive tidying of the tables. “Slow down, there, kid! You’re cleaning today more than I do in a year! What’s the occasion, you got a date or somethin’?” he asked with a twinkle in his eye. 

“...Something like that,” Akira replied reluctantly. He was preoccupied, and didn’t want to say much in front of Sojiro. 

As if on cue, the bells on the door jingled, and in came Mishima. 

Akira had to force himself not to stare. Mishima was wearing a dark leather jacket that was unzipped at the front, and a messenger bag slung around his shoulder. On anyone else, this look would have felt very punk, but on Mishima, it made him look… soft.

Or maybe Akira was just biased. 

Sojiro rubbed his chin as he looked at the new arrival. “My goodness…” he breathed as he looked from Mishima to Akira’s blushing face. “To tell the truth, I was expecting…” Then he took another look at Akira, who was trying to stop himself from looking too lovestruck. “Actually, never mind, not with this idiot,” Sojiro chuckled. 

Mishima’s eyes widened as he entered, shaking the rain off of his jacket. “Oh! Are you… Sakura-san?” he said breathlessly. “Kurusu has told me a lot about you.”

Sojiro smiled. “Oh, I dread to think!” He leaned on the counter and kept his eyes on Mishima. “So, what do they call you? I haven’t seen you show up here before. You Akira’s friend?” Sojiro had that fond smile on his face that Akira knew he reserved just for his friends. 

Mishima nodded properly. “Yes, Sakura-san. I mean… I’d like to think so, ehehe… I’m Yuuki Mishima, but everyone just calls me Mishima…” Mishima kept his gaze to the floor. 

“Well, I’m not everyone, I’m Sojiro Sakura,” Sojiro Sakura said. “Good to meet you, Yuuki.” He extended a hand. 

Mishima’s eyes widened, and he took it tentatively. “Th-thank you, Sakura-san,” he breathed. 

Akira was in an awkward position, where he didn’t want to keep Mishima waiting, but also didn’t want to interrupt either him or Sojiro. So he just kept silent in the corner by the tables. 

Sojiro chuckled as he shook Mishima’s hand firmly. “You’re a very nice young man. Got a girlfriend?”

Mishima blushed. “No, Sakura-san.”

“Got a boyfriend?” Sojiro asked with an undeniable wink. 

Mishima blushed even deeper and his gaze dropped again. “N-No, Sakura-san.”

“Is that so…” The fond twinkle was still in Sojiro’s eyes. 

Figuring he had better greet Mishima before he died of embarrassment, (and trying to hide his own embarrassment) Akira slowly edged out of his corner to make himself known, getting less and less sure about this whole situation with every shuffling step. He gave Mishima a little wave. 

Mishima’s eyes lit up when he saw Akira. “Kurusu! Have I got some things to talk about with-“ He rushed forward quickly, but then stopped abruptly, blushing again. There was only about six inches of space between them, standing in front of the counter. “But I, um, I don’t want to bother your dad, so I’ll just, um, be quiet.” 

Sojiro raised an eyebrow, his smirk not leaving his face. “Your dad?” he repeated, with a pointed look at Akira. 

Akira felt like he wanted to die. “Yes, I mean, we could go to the diner instead, if you wanted,” he offered. “I wasn’t expecting dad- _Sojiro_ to come back so soon.” Akira bit his lip to stop himself cursing at his slip up. 

Mishima looked disappointed. “Oh…” he murmured.

“Oh, believe me, I wouldn’t dream of interrupting a romantic afternoon such as this.” Sojiro stood up and stretched. “I know I can find something to do in the city. In the meantime, you two lovebirds have a nice chat, and Akira, you and Yuuki can help yourself to anything in the fridge.”

Akira blinked. “What are you-“

“...Kurusu?” Mishima asked tentatively. “Did you… plan this as a date?” 

Akira blanched. He hadn’t considered that at all, but the more he thought about it… the more not-opposed at all to the idea he felt. For once, Akira’s composure cracked on the outside as well as the inside. He started sweating. “Um, I mean, I didn’t _not_ plan it as one…” he stammered. Akira was trying not to catch Sojiro’s eye, who he knew was just looking at them both with his infuriating smirk. 

Mishima looked surprised. “Kurusu!!! You’re so thoughtful, I just- oh, I wish I had known, I would have brought something for you- How long had you been planning this?” he asked in amazement. 

_About two seconds,_ Akira’s mind said. He was still reeling from Sojiro tricking him like this. “Um… a while,” Akira told Mishima. 

“That’s… I’ve never had anyone…” Mishima seemed overwhelmed with emotion. Were those _tears_ in his eyes?

“Well, you two have a nice time together,” Sojiro called to them from the door. “Call me if either of you need anything, alright?” Akira gave him a pleading look over Mishima’s shoulder, but with one sly wink, the door was closed, and Sojiro was gone. 

Akira and Mishima just stood there for a few moments, neither of them sure what to do. Mishima was still blushing, and looking anywhere but Akira’s eyes. 

“...Wanna sit down?” Akira said finally. “I can make us some coffee while we figure this out.”

Mishima jumped. “Oh, thanks, Kurusu! You’re too nice to me, heh…” Mishima slid into a booth and slung his bag off of his shoulder. 

Akira appreciated the compliment, but if making coffee was considered “too nice,” he had to wonder how low Mishima’s bar for entry was. 

...Maybe he was biased too, Akira thought to himself. 

Akira started getting the coffee ready, and looked at Mishima sitting in the booth, looking around at the cafe in wonder. 

“Nice jacket,” Akira said, a little of his composure returning. 

Mishima smiled sheepishly, looking down at himself. “Oh, um, thanks… Now that the seasons are changing I can wear it more… I like it,” he stammered. 

“It looks good on you,” Akira said with a small smile. Mishima blushed and said nothing more. 

There was more silence between them as Akira turned on the coffee maker and listened to the bubbles. 

“...I’ve never been on a date before,” Mishima said quietly. 

Akira leaned on the counter. “Me either, let’s try it together!” On the inside, Akira was dying a slow and painful death of nerves and embarrassment, but he was very practiced at not showing it to anyone else, and that was very necessary here. 

Mishima dropped his gaze. “Y-Yeah…” he stammered. 

Akira was thinking of what else to say when Mishima’s eyes suddenly lit up. “Oh! Kurusu! I have so much to show you on the Phan-Site!” he exclaimed, opening his bag and pulling out his laptop. 

Akira had guessed that was what was inside his bag, but really… he took that thing everywhere, huh?

Mishima opened his laptop and set it on the table, working quickly. “I’ve been getting a lot of requests, and the poll has been getting more in our favor! Also-“

Akira held up a hand. “Mishima.”

Mishima froze. “...Yeah?”

“Don’t you think you deserve some time to relax?”

Mishima frowned. “This… _is_ how I relax, sort of…”

Okay, that was worrying. “Mishima… you shouldn’t be working _all_ the time…”

Mishima looked pained. “But I… Kurusu I have so much work to do, I’m sorry, I have to...” 

“You do so much good work, Mishima, but now’s not the time, you have to take a break every once in a while…”

Mishima sighed. “I guess you’re right…” He closed his laptop. “It would be rude to work when I’m taking up your time… I’ll work extra hard tonight to make up for it, okay?” 

The sudden shift in Mishima’s mood surprised Akira. He’d never seen him get this… almost resentful. No, that wasn’t true, he had seen it recently… 

“You really don’t have to, you do more than enough already…” Akira tried to soothe him. 

Mishima put his laptop back in his bag. “Really…? But I need to do so much more for us to get famous!” he said with wide eyes. 

Akira decided not to comment. “You should probably put your laptop up in my room,” he offered. “Customers could still come in, and we don’t want anyone to mess with it, do we?” The cafe was closed on Sundays, but Mishima didn’t need to know that. 

Mishima shook his head. “Oh, don’t worry, I’ll always keep it safe right next to me!” he said. “I would never let anyone else get their hands on my website.”

Uh oh. The plan had hit its first hitch, and Akira had to think fast. “Maybe,” he said smoothly, coming over to Mishima. “But that’s where _I’m_ going to sit.” He smiled and leaned on the table Mishima was sitting at. 

Mishima blushed deeply. Success. “O-Oh! Okay, I’ll, um, I’ll go do that,” he stammered. “If that’s okay, I mean.”

Fuck, he was cute. Akira could almost forget about the mission. Almost. “Of course it’s okay, Mishima, I’m the one who suggested it,” he soothed. “Here, I’ll go with you.”

Mishima just nodded. Akira was wishing this wasn’t underlined with a mission, because he wanted to take Mishima on a proper date, one that wasn’t… this. 

No reason not to make the most of it, though, he figured, and followed Mishima up the stairs to his room in the attic. 

As they climbed the stairs, Mishima glanced back at Akira. “Is… Is this why you weren’t getting back to me?” he asked. 

Focus. “Yeah… You’re not mad, are you?”

“NO!” Mishima cried. “I mean, how could I be…” he said more quietly. “This… this is nice…” He held his body very drawn in, and kept glancing around Akira’s eyes. 

In that moment, Akira couldn’t believe Mishima had a palace. 

They went into his room, and Akira stood off to the side, in front of the shelf with his box of clothes on it. “You can just put it on the shelf by my bed,” he told Mishima. 

“‘Kay.” Mishima looked all around the room as he set his laptop on Akira’s shelf. “Wow, you have a big room,” he marveled. 

Akira nodded. “Mmhm! It was really cluttered when I got here, but now it’s pretty nice.”

“It is…” Mishima agreed. 

Akira didn’t move from his spot. “Well, now that that’s taken care of, why don’t we head downstairs?” I’m sure the coffee is ready now, and I can make us some curry if you like!”

Mishima looked amazed. “You cook too? Kurusu, is there _anything_ you can’t do?”

Akira laughed as the two of them went down the stairs. Akira tried to focus on the nice time before them, rather than the worry and nerves that he felt.

* * *

Yuuki was still reeling from the concept of the date. He’d never asked anyone out before, much less been asked out himself. And by _Kurusu,_ of all people… 

Yuuki watched Kurusu work in the kitchen, leaning on the table where he sat. He looked so in control… so cool, so collected… And not bad looking in an apron, either. 

Looking at Kurusu like this… it made Yuuki feel good. Like he was almost wanted. 

“Mishima, would you like some curry?” Akira called. 

Yuuki jumped. “Y-Yes, please,” he stammered. 

Akira smiled at him, and made two plates full of curry and rice. He came over to Yuuki’s booth and slid into the seat right next to him, placing one of the plates in front of him. The curry smelled amazing, but Yuuki was more focused on the fact that _Kurusu was sitting right next to him and they were on a date._

“Thank, uh… Thank you,” Yuuki said nervously, feeling very bashful. 

Kurusu shook his head. “No need to thank me! Curry’s no fun to eat alone,” he smiled. 

Yuuki blushed, and tried some of the curry to distract himself. _Wow._ It was spicy, as curry was, but it was _really_ good. Before Yuuki knew it, half the plate was gone. 

Kurusu was watching him with a fond smile on his face. “Do you like it?” he asked, twirling his own fork in one hand. 

“It’s _amazing!”_ Yuuki gasped. “I… um, I don’t really have home-cooked food that often, or, uh… at all, really, so, um…” Yuuki paused, unsure of whether to go on. 

Kurusu’s smile dropped off his face, replaced with concern. “Mishima… do your parents not make you _anything?”_

Yuuki dropped his gaze, suddenly scared. “Um, I’m, sorry, I didn’t mean to get into my, uh, my stupid personal life, haha… Don’t worry about it.” He tried to crack a smile, but he knew it looked forced. 

Kurusu knit his eyebrows. He thought for a minute, and then scooted closer with his own untouched plate. “Here, have some of mine,” he offered, scraping a good two thirds of his own curry onto Yuuki’s plate. 

Yuuki was taken aback. “What? N-No, you don’t need to… I’m okay, I…”

“I can always make more, can’t I?” Kurusu said with a smile. He brushed his gorgeous black hair out of his face. “And you need it more than I do, anyways.”

Yuuki couldn’t bring himself to argue. Kurusu was so smooth. “I, um… Thanks, Kurusu,” he mumbled. 

Kurusu laughed. “You can call me Akira if you want to, really,” he told him. 

Yuuki blushed. “That’s… That’s not polite enough!”

Kurusu put a hand on his hip. “Yuuki, we’re on a date.”

The use of his own first name made Yuuki jump. “Wow, I, uh… I guess we are, huh… Akira?” he said hesitantly. 

Akira beamed. “There we go! Now, eat your curry, and what do you want to talk about?”

Yuuki blushed. “You’re asking _me?_ Um, I… I always love hearing about your adventures as a Phantom Thief…” he said timidly. 

Akira winked. “Ah, of course,” he said knowingly. 

Yuuki settled into his seat to listen (and eat). Akira told him all kinds of amazing stories that to anyone else would have seemed like tall tales, but Yuuki knew they were true. Akira was so modest, and he would never lie. He was so unbelievably cool… and his friends, too, of course. Hearing about all this, their Personas, shadows, treasures… It was delightful, but after a while it made Yuuki a little sad. 

“Wow… you guys are so cool… I’m honored to be your stupid little manager fanboy…” he told Akira. 

Akira frowned. “You’re not stupid,” he said, “and you’re _way_ more than just a fanboy.”

Yuuki shook his head. He wanted to be important, but to the Phantom Thieves? He was just a loser…

“...Yuuki?” Akira called. 

“...I’m sorry,” Mishima mumbled. “I shouldn’t be eating up so much of your time…” Suddenly Mishima wanted nothing more than to get back onto the Phan-site. “I should… stop bothering you…”

Kurusu put a hand on Yuuki’s shoulder. “Yuuki. Listen. You aren’t eating up my time, this is the nicest evening I’ve had in a long time. You’re more than just a fanboy, okay? I _like_ being with you,” he said emphatically. 

God, why did Kurusu have to be so perfect? “I… wow, you’re way too nice to me, I…” Despite himself, Yuuki could feel warmth and glee spreading through him… this felt good. “Thank you so much, Kurusu, I… wow, I’ll work extra hard on the Phan-site for you!” he cried. He was important, he was just as good as the other Phantom Thieves… _Maybe better,_ a voice inside him said. 

Yuuki stood up. He _had_ to get back to work now, he had to keep going! “Kurusu, thank you so much for, um… well, everything,” A blush grew on Yuuki’s face, “But I should really get going, I… have lots of work I need to do for you!” 

That was only half of it, Yuuki realized. Kurusu was _saying_ these things, but now, he felt like… he had to deserve it. He had to _deserve_ to be as cool as Kurusu said… That was why he wanted it so much. _Maybe it was just pity,_ Yuuki told himself. He had to work harder, do more… be famous. “I should… I should go,” Yuuki repeated. 

Kurusu looked startled. “I, um, okay, I’m sorry, Yuuki, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Yuuki edged past him in his seat and got out of the booth. “No, don’t be sorry, it’s not your fault, I just have… work…” he said feebly. 

Kurusu looked sad. “Okay… well… take care of yourself… me and the other Thieves are worried about you…”

Yuuki had to stop himself from snorting. _They wouldn’t care,_ he scoffed. Kurusu was just including them to be nice, and Yuuki appreciated it, but…

“I’ll… I’ll go grab my laptop,” he said, not looking at Kurusu. 

One quick trip upstairs (and one laptop inspection) later, Yuuki was back and ready to leave. Kurusu was holding a plastic container out to him pleadingly. 

“Won’t you at least take some curry to go?” he begged. Yuuki wanted to, he really did, but he couldn’t bring himself to inconvenience Kurusu any more. 

“No… no thank you…” he mumbled, fingering his jacket zipper. “I won’t trouble you anymore…” He really felt bad, but he couldn’t stay any longer, he couldn’t just… sit around. “Thank you, Kurusu, I… I had a really nice time,” he said genuinely.

Kurusu put the curry down. “Nah, don’t mention it, it was really nice to have you here.” He was smiling, but he looked sad.

Yuuki didn’t know what to say, and he was about to turn to leave, when Kurusu said something else.

“Hey, call me.”

Yuuki jumped. “Call you?”

“Yeah, like, on the phone, we don’t have to text! Cuz… I wanna see you again,” Kurusu told him.

Yuuki blinked. He didn’t know how to handle the idea that Kurusu was interested in… dating him a second time… “WowokayIwillthankyouokaybye,” he stammered, and hurriedly opened the door and left. 

The Phan-site was easier to focus on, he told himself as he pulled his jacket tighter. Kurusu made him feel things, and it was really, really nice, but at the same time… he wanted to get back to work. He made up his mind to call Kurusu later, though… Tomorrow, he thought.

* * *

Had he done something wrong?

Akira sat down at the counter, sort of in shock. That had not gone the way he had expected it to at all. To be fair, he hadn’t really known what to expect at all.

Before he could really think about everything, he heard shuffling in the attic above him. 

A few moments later, Futaba came down the stairs, stretching and rubbing her eyes. “Would it kill you to have a comfier clothes box?” she said crankily. She pulled a flash drive out of her pocket. “Anyways, I got everything we need,” she said with a grin. “Nice work, lover boy.”

Akira groaned. “Oh, shut up.”

Futaba suddenly turned serious. “But damn, Nishima… he’s pretty intense, huh…” 

Akira just nodded, still staring at the door Mishima had left from. “Yeah…”

“Maybe I shouldn’t have called him an NPC,” Futaba said quietly.

Akira turned to look at her again. “It’s not your fault, Futaba…” 

“It’s not _yours_ either,” Futaba retorted. “You’re not the only one who did stuff, ok? Don’t shoulder it all...” 

Akira shrugged. “Let’s not talk about that,” he told her. “We’ve got work to do, right?”

Futaba nodded. “Yeah… I’ll get to work on making the copy right now.”

Akira stood up, trying to put a smile on his face. “Great! Thanks, Futaba, you’re the best.”

Futaba laughed. “You keep saying that, so it must be true!” But her face fell almost as quickly as it had lifted. “You gotta take care of yourself, Akira… that’s important, too…”

Akira blinked. “I…”

“Well, good night…” 

Futaba left, leaving Akira tired and thoroughly confused.

He could only wonder what Mishima’s palace would be like.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi guys i'm still alive. i'll be honest, i'm really not sure if this is any good or not, but i've read and reread it fifty times by this point, so i've just come to accept it for what it is. i hope you like it! stay healthy too pls ;3;


	6. Chapter 6

“We ready to go?” Ryuji hadn’t bothered to sit down, instead opting to stand at Akira’s side with his phone out, poised to enter the Metaverse at a moment’s notice. 

Akira took a deep breath and surveyed the room. Makoto was supposedly giving Haru some strategy tips in the corner, but to Akira, it looked more like they were having romantic tension. Yusuke was the only person actually at the table, choosing to sit on top of it, cross legged, very serene. Akira envied his calmness. Ann was on Akira’s bed, trying to decide whether she wanted an ice resistant ring or a fire boosting necklace, and Morgana was on the floor sorting through their inventory of healing items and other necessities, which were carried in two large lunch bags that became covertly-sized pockets and pouches when they entered the Metaverse. 

Akira paused. “Wait, no we aren’t,” he told Ryuji, before speaking louder to the entire room. “Has anyone seen Futaba?” 

Makoto looked up, and then frowned. “...Come to think of it, I haven’t… she said she’d be here, didn’t she?”

Ann bit her lip. “Yeah, I remember that… I haven’t seen her either, though.”

“I have!” came a voice from the stairs. A few moments later, Futaba came stumbling into the room, lugging her enormous laptop in both hands. She staggered over to the table, ignoring Ryuji’s sudden dash forward to help her, and slammed the laptop down onto it, right in front of Yusuke’s lap. Yusuke looked at her with an affronted expression on his face. 

“Sorry, Inari,” Futaba said, “But I needed to bring this over!” She opened the laptop and started clicking away, sort of giggling quietly to herself. Akira went over to look over her shoulder, and the rest of the team soon followed, with even Yusuke sliding across the table and craning his neck to see.

On Futaba’s screen was a huge block of code, with several subwindows and tabs open filled with even more of the confusing script. “Got it!” Futaba crowed. 

Ryuji scratched his head, leaning in with an arm around Akira’s shoulder for balance. “What’s all this shit? Makes no effin’ sense…” he grumbled.

“It’s code, idiot!” Futaba snapped. Then she sighed. “...Sorry. I get way too heated when talking about this. Um…” she paused, fumbling for words. “To put it simply, this _is_ the Phan-site.”

Ann nodded. “This is like… Mishima’s code for it, right? It’s what he used to make it?”

Yusuke pointed to the side of the laptop. “I did notice the flash drive, is that where you got it from?”

“Yep!” Futaba said. “Um… anyone got a USB-C cable? I left mine at the house, and I need to connect my phone to this, so… I could go get it if no one-”

“NO, don’t!” Ryuji cried, fishing through his pockets. “I always keep one handy in case my phone dies, and I’ll go insane if we gotta wait any damn longer to do this!”

Futaba’s eyes widened. “S-Sure thing,” she stammered, and quickly plugged her phone into her laptop. “Now, hopefully, the nav should think that we have administrator access and let us into the Palace proper. Um… could someone type it in? I forget the keywords,” Futaba smiled sheepishly.

“That’s understandable, you’ve had a lot of work to do!” Haru chirped, reaching down and delicately picking up Futaba’s phone. “And you too, Akira, I hope your part of the plan went all right?”

Akira blinked. He had been sort of spacing, simply watching everything happen passively. “Oh! Yeah, uh… it went… about as well as could be expected!” He smiled, because it really had. He tried not to think about it too much, all the same. 

Haru set the phone back down on the table. “That’s good! I promise to do my best to help you with this!” she said eagerly. Akira blushed.

Ryuji grinned. “Yeah man, you know that goes for all of us, too.” He clapped Akira’s shoulder playfully and snatched up the phone, which had the keywords all typed in. “All right,” he called. “Who’s ready to do this thing!”

There was a (slightly reserved, because they were still above the cafe) cry of assent, and Ryuji beamed. “All right! Let’s push this big red button!”

Akira braced himself, knowing they were going in for real. No firewall was going to save him this time, he knew in his heart.

Ryuji triumphantly slammed his finger on the phone screen.

_“Beginning navigation.”_

The cool female voice of the MetaNav sounded more ominous than comforting this time around.

* * *

Applause. 

That was the first thing Akira could sense.

The overwhelming red that swam all around during Metaverse navigation had yet to fade away, which was worrying. Had they gotten stuck? Had Futaba’s trickery resulted in them being trapped in a place halfway between the Metaverse and reality?

No… once the immediate panic left him, Joker could tell that Futaba’s plan had indeed worked, they were definitely in a Palace. The color that surrounded them wasn’t from the MetaNav, but from city lights around them. Neon signs flashed bright all around them, and streetlights shone red, casting a dull dark red glow over everything. The area looked similar in structure to Central Street, albeit warped and twisted. Buildings, tall and dark, stretched out into the night sky above them. 

It was not a clean and pretty street. The buildings were grungy and rusty, pipes running all along them, branching and snaking upwards in a worrying pattern. Countless alleyways stretched out from the sides, leading into dark, shadowy corners. Papers blew down the street in a slight headwind, drawing Akira’s eye to the top of the street, where a huge, flashy building loomed over everything. Signs and displays so bright it almost hurt to look at were plastered over nearly every available space on the building, with garish versions of the now iconic Phantom Thieves logo appearing everywhere along with signs and the words **“Yuuki Mishima’s PHAN-SITE! - Featuring Joker and the Phantom Thieves!”** flashing incessantly.

Ryuji stepped forward, holding an arm in front of his face to shield his eyes. “Agh, _shit_ it’s bright,” he growled. “This is givin’ me the creeps.”

Yusuke rubbed his eyes to keep the brightness away. “Where is that applause coming from? We aren’t being observed already, are we?”

Haru stepped over smartly, pointing over everyone’s heads to the towering building. “Look! All those flashing lights! There must be people over there!”

Akira looked where she was pointing, and sure enough, there were dozens of bright flashes of light going off, like the chatter of paparazzi. “...That _is_ odd,” Akira said. His voice sounded distant, like he wasn’t really the one speaking. 

Futaba peered over with her goggles. “That does seem to be the main entrance, but… I don’t think we’ll be getting in that way. Unless we want to be mobbed.”

Makoto nodded. “That would not be a very good way to start the mission. Um… Mona, what are you doing?”

Akira glanced over to the building next to them. Morgana was very determinedly shimmying up one of the pipes on the side, a scowl on his round face. “What’s it look like?” he called. “I’m climbing!” 

Ann’s eyes widened. “You know, he could be right… being on the roofs would help us see things better, and we also might be able to find another way in.”

Akira squeezed Ann’s shoulder encouragingly. “Good thinking, Panther,” he said steadily. “...How about we find a fire escape or something, though, instead of climbing. I don’t want to risk using my grappling hook in the dark.”

Ryuji gulped. “F-Fine by me,” he stammered. “Those buildings look like they go up forever...”

Haru stepped behind Ryuji and took his hand. “Don’t worry, Skull!” she beamed. “I’ll catch you if anything happens!”

Akira smiled. “Yes, okay, that will work. Noir, you’re on duty to make sure we stay safe.” He was only half joking. He fully trusted Haru to look after everyone. 

“Of course!” Haru agreed, leading a very red faced Ryuji. 

Futaba’s voice rang out from an alley. “I found something! Looks pretty shaky though… but it’s the best we got…”

The group raced over to find a very steep, very rickety looking stair that started about three feet up from the ground. As Ann took the first tentative step, she gave Futaba an annoyed look. “Easy for you to say, you have your own personal UFO,”

Futaba just smirked. “See you there.”

When the thieves reached the top of the very anxiety-inducing fire escape, Futaba and Morgana were waiting for them at the top. Futaba yawned playfully. 

“Did you have a safe trip?” Morgana asked, smirking. 

Ryuji rolled his eyes. “Shut it,” he growled. Haru was still behind him, glancing at their surroundings. 

“It’s not as bright up here…” she remarked. 

Yusuke pushed his mask up to look around. “Yes, but it is still not very inviting.”

He was right. The roofs were grimy, slippery, and steam hung in the air from the pipes, many of which stopped here. Garbage and papers fluttered in the wind, gathering at the thieves’ feet. 

Futaba frowned, kicking at the refuse around her. “I don’t really know what this says about what he thinks of Tokyo, but I doubt it’s anything good.”

Ann looked uneasy. “Yeah… I didn’t really think about it… but this feels… scary.”

“And oppressive,” Morgana chimed in. 

Akira had been trying not to think about that either. He played with his sleeves and tried to focus on his teammates. 

“We should probably keep it down,” he said in a low voice. “When we get over to that crowd of people, we need to be extra careful.”

Makoto came over to him, which was something she liked to do when she was sharing command. “Of course. Everyone watch your step. Joker, we’ll follow your lead.”

Akira nodded. It felt good to be somewhat in control. He waved his hand forward, and they were off. 

The gaps between the roofs were narrow enough to be leaped over with ease, and their shoes made barely a clatter on the hard surface. Akira was constantly looking back and forth between the team behind him and the building before him, which was getting steadily closer. A huge, full moon lay behind it, which ringed the tower in even more light. 

The applause and cheers were getting louder, and as Akira neared the end of the street, he became more and more uneasy. What was such a big crowd doing here? He felt like he could guess, but…

They reached the end of the last building on the street, and Akira immediately dropped to peek over the edge. 

Ryuji was hot on his heels. “Dude, that was so COOL!” he “whispered.” “Leaping across rooftops in the dead of night, that’s _totally_ something phantom thieves would do!”

“Quiet down, you moron!” Morgana snapped. “But, uh, I do agree,” he admitted sheepishly. “That was pretty neat.”

Ryuji grinned. “Right?” he said more softly, before dropping to the edge of the roof right next to Akira. “Dude…” he gasped. 

Beneath them was a mass of people, taking pictures, cheering, shouting, all thronging at the sides of a red carpet. Akira could just barely pick out some of the chattering crowd. _“He’s amazing!” “He saved my life!” “It’s all thanks to him!”_

Ann had come to the other side of Akira, still out of breath from the run up. “Whoa… who are they talking about?”

“I’ll give you one guess,” Futaba said grimly. 

Akira leaned down and pointed. “Look.”

On the red carpet, closer to the doors of the main building, were two figures, but you would have been forgiven for thinking they were one large figure due to how close together they were. 

One of these figures was unmistakably Mishima. There was no mistaking his small silhouette, his wild yet perfect blue hair, and his beautiful face… 

_Hold it, Akira._ Joker reminded himself. _This is a Shadow. You need to focus._

Right. Even from this height, Akira could see Mishima’s golden eyes glowing as he basked in all the praise. He was dressed in an impeccable dark purple suit, and he was blowing kisses and waving at the crowd.

“Yes, that certainly is Mishima-kun…” Makoto whispered. “But who is that next to him?”

Akira had been wondering about that. At Mishima’s side was another boy, dressed in a similarly fancy, but much more flamboyant black blazer. He looked like someone Akira knew, but he couldn’t place it, especially from such a distance.

Haru squinted at the two below them. “That’s-”

Yusuke gasped. “Joker, it’s-”

Akira had a flash of realization, and before he knew it, he was letting loose his grappling hook, ignoring the questioning cries of his teammates, and zooming above the crowd and landing on one of the neon signs directly above Mishima and the other boy. He had to see for himself, and now that he was close he could tell that the boy next to Mishima… was _himself._

 _...It must be a cognition,_ Joker said firmly. That was the only possible explanation for how a copy of _himself_ could be there next to Mishima. Standing close to him, almost _too_ close, with his arm around the shadow’s hip, and his other hand slipped into Mishima’s, the cognitive Akira was constantly glancing around at the onlookers, like he was scanning for any possible threats. _Well, that part is right..._ Akira agreed, _I_ am _pretty protective..._ But as Akira looked closer, he noticed other, more subtle differences. His posture was better, holding himself straighter and more properly, and his face was kind, but at the same time almost sharp and penetrating. He looked good, his hair was trimmed but still messy, not out of control like Akira’s hair got most of the time, but messy in a casual, familiar way. His skin was perfect and clear. Maybe a few inches taller. Taking this all in, Akira couldn’t help but gasp. He was kind of... perfect.

 _Is this really what Mishima thinks of me?_ Akira wondered. Seeing himself, no, the cognition whispering into the shadow’s ear, with a sweet yet mischievous smile on his face… it was kind of flattering, but in a very, _very_ strange way. 

In his haste to get a better look, Akira’s foot slipped on the slick sign, and the other Akira immediately tensed. _Time to leave,_ Joker said. With a flick of the wrist, Akira was away, soaring back to the roof where the rest of his team were. 

He staggered a little upon touching down, still shaken from his discovery. Ryuji immediately rushed forward to steady Akira, and Yusuke quickly followed.

“H-Hey man, you all right?” Ryuji asked, worry creasing his brow. “Don’t zip off like that, you really scared us…”

Akira exhaled. “Sorry, I… But that… That other guy is _me,”_ he gasped.

Everyone looked at each other. Akira blinked. “...I was expecting a little more of a surprised reaction,” he said, confused.

“To be frank, it was quite apparent,” Yusuke said. Akira glanced at him in surprise. 

“You knew???” he asked, incredulous.

“I think we all did,” Haru chimed in. 

Akira shook his head. “How? He’s really different from me!”

Ryuji shrugged. “I mean, sure, he’s super hot, but, uh-”

“Ryuji!” Ann snapped. Ryuji flinched.

“Um, not that you’re not hot dude,”

Akira could feel the blush coming. “Please don’t,” he said helplessly.

“I'm just saying Mishima- he uh... he's gotta pretty good image of you in his head, I guess.” Ryuji was looking at the floor.

Akira stumbled out of Ryuji and Yusuke’s hold. “Skull, _please,”_ he begged. The attention was nice, and being called hot by Ryuji… oh god. But still, he had a mission to focus on..

“I mean, he does have a point,” Ann mused.

_Not Ann too._

Makoto frowned. “I mean… yeah, he’s nice looking but he looks a little… gaudy?”

Yusuke chimed in eagerly. “I'm so glad you noticed it too, Queen, while his body is indeed pristine, his outfit is a bit garish compared to our true leader’s.”

Akira waved his hands helplessly, blushing very deeply at this point. _“Can we stop talking about this now please and thank you,”_

Ryuji snickered. “Sure thing, man.”

Yusuke didn’t bother hiding his smirk. “Of course, Joker.”

Futaba just snorted. “You’re hot, dude. Nishima’s got the right idea,” she said dryly.

 _“Anyways,”_ Akira cried desperately. “Look, they’re going inside now,” he pointed to the ground below them, where Mishima and… himself? had opened the huge doors to the building and were going inside. The crowd was crying out in sadness, reaching out as if in an effort to make him stay.

“Geez, talk about a rabid fanbase,” Futaba grumbled. “Anyways,” she pointed to a wall close to the main door. “There’s a window in the entrance hall that should be our way in.”

Makoto looked where she was pointing. “Understood, Oracle. We should proceed quickly. Security may be spread thin with all the fans around.”

As they made their way down, Akira couldn’t help letting his mind drift to the cognition he had seen. The idea of _that_ being what Mishima thought of him did… things in his chest, and he wasn’t sure if they were good or bad things. Best not to think about that right now.

Five minutes, several close calls, and a few grapples later, the thieves landed by the entrance hall window with barely a clatter. 

As if on cue, a clatter came from behind Akira, causing everyone to jump. “Skull!” Akira hissed.

“What?” Ryuji’s voice came from right beside him. “Why d'you always blame me?”

Oops. “Oh shit. I’m sorry,” Akira said, more softly. “I’m just… on edge today,” he muttered.

Ryuji’s angry face melted, and he gave Akira an encouraging pat on the shoulder. “Come on, we can do this, leader!” Ryuji’s earnest grin made Akira feel a little better. 

“Thanks, Skull,” he said genuinely. “But, uh…” he said a little louder. “Who was that, anyways?”

Yusuke stumbled into view from behind a bush. “My apologies,” he said politely. “I fell over because I was so taken by the beauty of this world’s moon.” He sounded wistful.

Akira chuckled. “Should’ve known.” Then he focused again. “All right, everyone ready to do this?”

There was a (whispered) murmur of agreement from the thieves. 

Morgana piped up. “From now on, this is our infiltration point. Let’s-”

Futaba groaned. “We _know,_ Mona, save it!”

Akira gave her a nod. “Well…” A lump formed in his throat, and he couldn’t bring himself to give the order.

“Let’s go.” 

God bless Makoto.

With a single leap, Akira opened the window and slid through it, landing on his feet in whatever world they had just hopped into.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> howdy! i'm not dead! neither is this project, i'm really pleased with my work on it this time. my only problem with this part is that i can't shake the feeling that it's structured poorly in some way. regardless, here it is! hopefully in a passable form. this actually isn't even all I wrote, this part got so long that i had to break it in half, so expect the next chapter sooner than usual! maybe that means i'll get a head start on the next part, too... hopefully.


	7. Chapter 7

The entrance hall was huge and open, with a large wraparound central staircase ending at an elevator. The walls were covered in posters of the Phantom Thieves, even with some tv screens like the ones outside. The floor seemed to sparkle beneath their feet, and Akira was almost impressed with how neat it looked. 

Almost. It was still incredibly flashy, and there was a weird tapping sound coming from the right-

“Guys! Hide!” Futaba yelped. 

Instinctively, Akira tucked his body into a roll and dove beside the wall, flattening himself so that he was as tight against it as possible. 

The tapping sound came closer, and Akira could see now that the sound was footsteps… The footsteps of his cognitive double, to be exact. Shadow Mishima wasn’t with him, which seemed a little off. 

He walked smartly across the hall, with his shoes clicking menacingly on the hard floor, and his blazer flowing with his movement perfectly, beautifully, almost mesmerizingly. He went up the stairs, taking them briskly, and then with a final piercing glance over his shoulder, slipped into the elevator. 

Okay. Wow. Mishima really did think that Akira was  _ way _ better than he actually was. The way he carried himself was just unparalleled, and it almost made Akira jealous. 

_ Oh, who am I kidding,  _ Akira thought to himself.  _ I  _ am _ jealous.  _

Jealous or not, Akira felt… unnerved. 

“...Joker?” came Ryuji’s voice over his shoulder. “...You can breathe now.”

Akira exhaled, blushing, and peeled himself off the wall to look at Ryuji. “Sorry about that, I was a little bit…”

“Nervous?” Haru asked, brow knit beneath her mask.

Akira shook his head. “No, not nervous, exactly, I guess I’m just… um…”

“You’re confused, right?” Ann said. She came over to Akira and playfully wrapped an arm around his shoulder. “It’s a pretty bizarre experience, that’s for sure…”

Akira blinked. Of  _ course _ Ann would know. “Yeah… sure is… thanks, Panther.” He gave her a wan smile, and she beamed back.

Morgana’s eyes widened. “Oh yeah… you’d know, huh, Lady Ann?” 

Yusuke tilted his head. “Panther would know? Know what? And how?” 

Ann shook her head. “Let’s not talk about that right now!” she said hurriedly, glaring at Morgana. “And stop calling me that!”

Makoto was looking around them anxiously. “We should probably get a move on, it’s not a good idea to be standing out in the open like this-”

There was a loud  _ thump _ to Akira’s right, and Ryuji was there, shaking himself off. “Welp, the elevator up there’s a no-go. It won’t even open.”

“Wait wait wait,” Ann stopped him. “How’d you get up there?”

Ryuji looked at her. “I… climbed the stairs?”

“And you decided it would be better to  _ jump _ down?”

Ryuji shrugged. “It was faster. And more fun.”

“You could have gotten hurt!” Ann cried. 

“But I didn’t!”

“You’re an animal,” Ann scoffed.

Akira saw Ryuji tense, but before he could say anything, Haru stepped in between the two of them.

“Let’s not get into a fight before we even meet any Shadows,” she offered.

Ryuji slowly unstiffened his shoulders. “Sorry… Panther, I should… be more careful…” he mumbled.

Ann smiled. “It’s okay! Sorry for overreacting, I just…” she trailed off.

Akira exhaled. “Thank you, Noir. Right, well... Let’s get going,” he ordered, and set off briskly down the left hall. 

Futaba raced to keep up with him, pulling at his sleeve. “So, uh… where we going?” she asked. 

Akira shook his head. “I don’t really- know. I’m sorry, I’m just hoping we’ll find something of interest somewhere…” He sighed. “I’m sorry, I’m just trying to focus on getting this done, but-”

Futaba had to walk on her tiptoes to look Akira in the eyes.. “Aw, it’s ok. I  _ am _ the navigator, after all, I should be pulling my weight a little more,”

Akira couldn’t stand to hear Futaba talk like that. “No, don’t say that-”

“But first!” Futaba winked, turning backwards and raising her voice to be heard by the whole group. “I have to hand it to Mishima, his Akira would probably make anyone wet themselves regardless of sexuality.”

Akira blanched. He could hear everyone else laughing behind him.  _ “Oracle!” _ he hissed, recovering from his stumble.

“Yes?” Futaba tilted her head. 

“You can’t just-” Akira was blushing furiously. “You can’t just SAY that???”

“I think I just did,” she said plainly.

“Th-That’s not allowed!”

Futaba giggled. “We’re wanted by the law already, I can do what I want,”

Ryuji caught up to them both. “Oh, man… Gimme a warning next time you say somethin’ like that, Oracle, my sides are hurting already,” he wheezed. 

Makoto quickened her pace elegantly to keep with them. “I have to hand it to her, she does have a point. Although-”

“Although  _ our _ leader is very handsome as well,” Haru chimed in sweetly. “Was that what you meant, Queen?”

Makoto chuckled. “More or less.”

Yusuke smiled to himself. “They both have their strong points, but I think something has to be said for the original, of course. Far more… realistic and attractive.”

Akira had to put his head in his hands to hide his ridiculous blush. “Guys,  _ please,” _ he begged. “I’m trying to stay focused on the mission here-”

Ann beamed. “That’s our point, Joker!” she giggled. “You need to loosen up a little bit!” 

“See, Panther understands!” Futaba had moved to the front and was watching ahead of them as they neared the end of the hall. 

Akira was beyond embarrassed, but at the same time… he did feel a little better. They were all joking around with him, like usual, maybe this could turn out to be just a normal mission with nothing to worry about. He took a deep breath, trying to convince himself. 

A short gasp jolted Akira back to attention, and his head snapped up. A figure had rounded the corner, and had stopped, frozen in shock. It had the black body of a Shadow, but it was wearing a shirt with the same fanciful version of the Phantom Thieves logo, and had a mask that looked like a homemade prop version of Joker’s own.

_ “It’s a fan,” _ Makoto whispered. 

The Shadow glanced back and forth. “Are you guys the Phantom Thieves???” it said breathlessly. 

Ryuji gently nudged Joker forward. “Uh, hell yeah we are! Look, here’s our leader, in the flesh!” He grinned nervously.

Akira was somewhat used to being put on the spot, but he nevertheless shot a nervous glare back at Ryuji. Everyone else was frozen, just staring. “Uh, yep, that’s me!” Akira tried for a smirk, and it came out pretty well.

The Shadow took a bold step forward, talking a mile a minute. “Wow, I can’t believe I finally get to meet you guys, I-” It stopped, and leaned closer. “Wait. You’re not the real Phantom Thieves!” it cried, pointing to Akira’s coat. “This costume is a fake!” 

Morgana hopped in place indignantly. “We are  _ too _ the real Phantom Thieves-“ he yelled, but Ann kicked him into silence. 

Akira tensed, and sensed everyone else behind him shift into fighting position.

“Wh-Who  _ are _ you?” The Shadow took a shaky step backward, head nervously flicking between the different members of the group. Before it could make a run for it, Akira gripped its shoulder, pulled it closer, and flashed his knife.

“I’m sorry about this,” Akira said sincerely.

In a blink, Joker lunged forward, driving the knife into the Shadow’s chest, and used the opening to reach out and tear the imitation mask off of its face. The Shadow howled in pain and fear, and collapsed into black smoke and red goo.

* * *

“Was that  _ it?  _ They were nothing!” Ryuji crowed, as the last demon melted away with a blast from Kidd. 

“Well, it  _ was _ just a very eager fan.” Ann bit her lip.

Akira stowed his knife and had his Neko Shogun quickly cast Diarama on Makoto, before replacing his mask and dismissing the small, armored cat. “Yeah… while that certainly wasn’t dangerous, it’d be a problem if the actual security is much stronger than this…”

Makoto sighed with relief after receiving the healing. “This does prove my theory that security is spread thin tonight, though. If just a normal fan could get inside, it must be pretty loose.”

Akira nodded. “Still, we should be careful.”

Yusuke, Haru, and Morgana hurried forward from their support positions.

“Are you guys okay? Those Shadows didn’t look tough, but even the weak ones can-“

“We’re fine, Mona,” Ryuji grinned. “We’re just too strong for ‘em now!”

Yusuke frowned. “I would not bet on that,” he murmured. “We should be more cautious later on.” 

Akira nodded, happy that Yusuke had come to the same conclusion that he had. 

Haru looked troubled. “By the way… that Shadow thought  _ all of us _ were the Phantom Thieves, not just Joker…”

“What are you saying?” Futaba asked, landing on her feet after Necronomicon vanished. 

“Well, I just mean that… maybe this world has  _ all _ of the Phantom Thieves as well…” Haru looked worried. 

Everyone paused to consider that. “Um… that’s a pretty disquieting idea,” Makoto stammered. 

Haru looked surprised. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bring the mood down-“

“It’s okay, Noir,” Akira soothed. “It’s a good thing to keep in mind as we go forward. But… let’s go forward a little more stealthily from now on, shall we?”

Everyone nodded. Akira felt a little more at ease, now that they had fought a Shadow, he felt somewhat in control. “All right. Let’s get a move on.”

WIthout another word, Akira turned the corner and set off down the hall, instinctively bending his knees to keep as low as possible while still being maneuverable. 

The huge wraparound windows on the left wall made Akira feel very exposed, but the glances he cast in that direction showed no signs of any observers, just spotlights and bushes lining the wall. All the fans must have still been at the front, clamoring for Mishima and… himself.

Akira sighed. He really had to think of something else to call the cognition, thinking of it as “himself” was way too weird. Especially with how unreasonably chilled Akira felt thinking about the scare in front of the elevator…

“Joker!” came a loud whisper from Ann. Akira jumped, and whipped around to face the group.

“What?” he hissed, trying to hide how startled he was.

Ann gestured to the wall next to her. “Shouldn’t, uh… shouldn’t we try one of these doors?” Ryuji pointed helpfully over her head.

Akira glanced to the right wall. “...Oh.” Akira had been focusing so much on the huge windows, that he hadn’t noticed the many doors that lined the other wall. “Yeah, we should at least check…”

Akira drew himself up again and went to the nearest door, which was labelled “1-D”.

“It’s probably just a closet or something,” Futaba scoffed as Akira turned the handle and poked his head inside.

Instead of a closet, Akira was met with one of the largest rooms he had ever seen. It was such a shock compared to what he had expected that he took a step backward.

“Holy shit…” Ryuji breathed. 

“It’s so…  _ flashy,” _ Ann said.

Flashy was definitely the word to describe it. The door had opened into a narrow walkway between rows upon rows of folding chairs, enough to seat all the students and faculty of Shujin with room to spare. All the chairs were pointed towards a high stage, with angry red and gold accents and even  _ curtains.  _

“What… is this place?” Haru gasped. 

“It reminds me of a theater, but it’s the size of a convention hall,” Makoto said, her eyes flicking up to the tall ceiling. 

Akira took a few steps forward, advancing into the huge room. “...That’s probably what this is,” he said, gazing all around him. 

“What do you mean?” Makoto asked. 

Akira swallowed. “Well, the Phan-Site is all about showing us off… to Mishima it is, at least… so it makes sense that he’d have a sort of place to do that…” 

Futaba nodded. “This is, like, the front page of the site…”

Yusuke edged past Akira and walked briskly into the center of the hall. “It’s marvelous…” he wondered. 

Akira raised an eyebrow. “Fox?”

Yusuke paid him no attention. “Of course, it is very fierce, but undeniably it’s rather striking to look at… I wonder who designed this.” Yusuke was talking to no one, just taking in the sights. 

Ryuji stifled a laugh. “Uh, hello? Earth to Fox? Can I get a little focus here?”

Yusuke started. “Goodness! I’m so sorry for my carelessness, I’ll control myself, I swear! It’s just… the Metaverse is so  _ stimulating _ sometimes…” Nevertheless, Yusuke scurried back to the main group. 

Futaba tapped Akira on the shoulder. “Joker, it looks like this is the end point of the entire floor. Necronomicon is telling me that all the doors in both halls lead here. The elevator at the front is the only way up higher.”

Ryuji groaned, letting his arms drop from his ready stance. “Of course, if we’re going by past logic, the treasure’ll definitely be at the very top, huh?”

Akira flinched almost imperceptibly when Ryuji mentioned the treasure. 

“Well, of course,” Makoto said. “It’s the hardest place to get to for sure, and if Mishima-kun’s shadow really is up there, that means that the top of this place must be the most personal to him in some way… which is where the treasure will be.”

Ann plopped down into one of the chairs. “Makes sense…” she sighed. “But how do we even get up there?”

“Beats me,” Morgana said. “But there’s gotta be  _ some _ way…”

Akira took a deep breath to clear his mind. “Well, first things first. There’s a ton of chairs in here, and no Shadows, for the moment, so let’s have a short rest.”

Everyone gratefully sank into the nearest chair. 

“After you’ve recharged a little, you can help me poke around this huge room,” Akira finished. 

“I get it,” Futaba grinned. She had chosen to lie on the floor rather than sit. “This is a Palace, so there’s definitely gonna be some secrets, right?”

“That’s the idea.” Akira smiled.

After about five minutes of Akira checking every single door in the entire room to make sure what Futaba had told him was true, he heard Yusuke calling.

“Everyone! Over here!” 

The group convened with Yusuke, who was on the top of the stage. “Not so loud, Fox!” Morgana scolded. “That could have been all we needed to get surrounded by Shadows!”

“I apologize, but I found something, and I didn’t think it would be wise to go in by myself.”

Akira waved his hands. “Slow down, Fox. What do you mean, go in?”

To answer, Yusuke walked over to the stage curtain and pulled it back, revealing the backstage. “Take a look.”

As the group moved over to look inside with Yusuke, Akira could hear Futaba grumbling “How did no one else think of that…”

The backstage area was quite sparse, only with a few crates and storage bins scattered around, but the main point of interest (and the thing that Yusuke was pointing at) was a black iron door in the back wall.

Yusuke was looking at Akira with worried eyes. “I… I’m sorry, was I overreacting? That door seemed very aggressive, so I thought twice about just opening it, should I have-”

Akira shook his head. “Nah, Fox, you did a good job.”

Ryuji grinned. “Hey man, we’re a team, right? It’d suck if you got in trouble without us.”

Yusuke smiled. “I suppose you’re right. Thank you all for humoring me.”

“Well, let’s go in!” Ann agreed. 

Akira crept over to the door and, without another word, dragged it open. It was quite heavy, and scraped across the ground as it swung.

The entire team stopped dead in their tracks, caught off guard by what they had just walked into.

The room was very small, but the ceiling seemed to stretch farther than the eye could see, extending up and up and out of sight. What had really surprised the phantom thieves was the absolute cacophony of paper airplanes swirling around the room. Some were folded neatly, while many others were assembled messily. They soared and swirled around every which way, and a great many of them littered the floor as well.

“That’s weird…” Akira mumbled as he waved the team forward to investigate further. 

When he peered into the room, Joker had to stop himself from crying out in surprise. Two figures were in the back corner, talking to each other and handling the hundreds of paper airplanes. One of them looked like Ryuji, bleached hair, hunched posture and all, and another had Futaba’s orange hair, glasses, and short stature.

“Holy sh-” 

Akira clamped a hand over Ryuji’s mouth.

“What the fu-” 

Akira pressed his other hand over Futaba’s mouth.

_ “Please no one else yell, I’m all out of hands,”  _ Akira hissed. 

_ “What do we do, Joker?” _ Ann whispered to him. 

Akira took a step backward.  _ “We get out. Quick, and quiet, we-” _

“God, why do  _ we _ have to be the ones to take out the trash? All the other guys get to hang out above us, and we just get request duty,” the imitation of Futaba spat. 

_ “Hold on,” _ Akira whispered, and took one cautious step into the room, putting a hand to his ear. It was times like this where he wished Igor had given him a Third Ear to go along with his eye. The fluttering of paper made it hard to eavesdrop.

The figure with Ryuji’s face shrugged. “Eh, this is about all we’re good for anyways,” he drawled casually.

Akira could feel Ryuji tense beside him. 

The cognitive Futaba laughed. “Maybe for you. I should be tech support, not… garbage lady.”

Akira leaned in further to see what the two were doing. The cognitive Futaba was on her knees, sweeping the heaps of crumpled and broken paper planes down a hole in the wall. The light and smoke leaking from the opening told Akira that those planes were headed for an incinerator. Meanwhile, the cognitive Ryuji was reaching up and snatching planes out of the air, the ones that appeared to have stalled out and were just hovering fruitlessly. He looked like he was having fun, jumping up to grab some and tossing them in a garbage bag. Sometimes he even just took a whack at some with a silver bat, knocking them to the ground in a crumpled mess.

The Futaba glared at him. “Hey, stop that!” she snapped. “Don’t make more of them for me!”

“Shit, my bad, this is just fun, taking out the weak ones that haven’t got the sense to know they ain’t worth it!” He laughed maliciously.

“Well, don’t knock so many down, ok?” 

The cognitive Ryuji shrugged. “Mhm,” he grunted. “Whatever.”

Akira got brushed aside, and he panicked when he saw Ryuji push himself forward, fists clenched.  _ “That son of a-”  _ he growled.

“Ryuji, don’t!” Futaba cried, rushing forward and trying to drag Ryuji back.

Akira winced as both the cognitions jumped and turned towards the door. Immediately, the cognitive Ryuji stiffened, and took a few steps toward them. “Who’re you losers?” he spat. “HQ’s closed.  _ No visitors.” _ He hefted his bat menacingly, a cocky glint in his eye. The cognitive Futaba, on the other hand, was quiet as death, simply staring at the two with wide eyes.

“Yeah, well, we’re not exactly visitin’, are we?” Ryuji snapped. “And I don’t like you runnin’ around with my face!” 

Futaba was farther behind Ryuji, saying nothing, simply staring at her cognitive double in wordless shock.

The cognitive Ryuji sneered. “Your face? I dunno what that means, and I don’t care. Just get out, unless you want me to make you!”

Ryuji took a threatening step forward. “I’d like to see you try, asshole!”

Futaba was pulling his arm, frantically glancing between him and the cognitions. “Ryuji, please-”

Akira couldn’t just observe anymore. As he stepped out from behind the doorway, the whole team followed him into the room, swatting away the cacophony of paper airplanes. “You want to repeat that threat?” Joker called, crossing his arms. Ryuji cast a grateful glance over his shoulder. Futaba was still standing motionless, apparently terrified. Akira bent down to comfort her. “It’s okay, you can sit this one out if you’re upset,” he whispered. He knew the feeling all too well…

Futaba mouthed  _ Thank you,  _ and hurried to the back of the group.

A flash of surprise darted across the cognitive Ryuji’s face. The cognitive Futaba yelped and scurried behind him, only barely peeking out from behind his shoulder.

“Shit… there’s more of ya, huh?” the cognitive Ryuji gasped, putting an arm in front of the cognitive Futaba. 

“That’s right,” Ryuji growled, “And I’m gonna fuckin’ KILL ya for making me look like a joke!” He advanced toward the pair, holding his pipe over his shoulder. “Joker, you coming? Cuz I’m kicking this loser’s ass whether you like it or not.” There was an angry steel in his eyes that Akira hadn’t seen since Kamoshida’s palace.

Akira hesitated for one heartbeat before waving the team forward. They couldn’t let him raise the alarm anyways. “Yes, let’s go. Quickly, if you don’t mind.” 

The cognitive Ryuji’s momentary worried expression hardened into resolve. The cocky smirk was gone, replaced with intensity. “Futaba, go,” he ordered. “You can get outta here, right?” 

The cognitive Futaba nodded timidly.

The real Ryuji took a swing in their direction, but the cognitive Ryuji shoved the Futaba out of the way of the blow, before rolling away and leaping across the room. “GO!” he screamed at her. “Tell our manager-” he dodged a burst of gunfire from Yusuke, “-security!”

Akira took a glance at the cognitive Futaba, who was hunched in the corner and whispering to herself. Suddenly, something that looked vaguely like Necronomicon appeared around her and she whizzed away, up into the height of the seemingly ceilingless shaft. 

“What on earth was that?” Haru asked, looking over from her support position.

Akira grimaced. “I wonder…”

The cognitive Ryuji grinned as he straight up kicked Makoto in the shins, while inaccurately swinging his pipe in Akira’s direction. “Ha! You losers can’t handle me one on one, so you brought all your friends too!” His brashness seemed to have returned.  


Ryuji’s face was bright red, and Akira was sure it wasn’t just from the exertion of battle. “That’s not even-”

The cognitive Ryuji seemed to delight in tormenting Ryuji specifically, cutting him off at every opportunity. “Oh well, two can play at this game, assholes!” He stopped throwing out attacks and put his fingers to his lips, blowing an old fashioned taxi-whistle. As if on cue, three shadows, each in very flashy suits, appeared out of the ground. “Let’s tear them apart!” the cognitive Ryuji crowed.

Ann’s eyes widened. “That’s… that’s a lot,” she gasped. 

Akira shouted an order for Yusuke to fall back to support. “Keep your cool, everyone, they’re just Shadows!”

It turned out that the cognitive Ryuji’s goons were quite a bit tougher than “just Shadows.” Akira tried unloading everything Power had to offer on them, but they barely seemed to take any damage. On the last hit, though, he got lucky and scored a hit on one’s weak spot with a psychic attack.

“Joker! Pass it to me, I’m ready!” Morgana cried to his right. Putting all his chips on the hope that the cognitive Ryuji was weak to wind, just like the real one, Akira stepped over to Morgana and gave him a quick high five, powering up his next attack. 

Before Morgana could unleash a powerful wind attack on the cognitive Ryuji, he anchored his feet in the ground and grinned at them. “Ha! That’s cute, whatcha gonna do, blow on me? Useless cat,” he taunted.

Akira could see Morgana narrow his eyes. “Wait, Mona, don’t let him-”

“USELESS CAT?” he screamed. “I’ll show you!!!”

Morgana immediately charged forward, lunging at the cognitive Ryuji with his scimitar. Normally, it would have been a deadly strike, but the cognitive Ryuji had seen it coming from a mile away. He raised his bat, blocking the blow easily, and before Akira could blink, brought a fist underneath his arm and punched Morgana right in the gut. Morgana yelped and fell to the ground, actually sliding a few feet before lying motionless.

“Mona!” Ryuji cried desperately.

The cognitive Ryuji sneered at him. “You nerds aren’t as special as you think you are!” Before Akira could get to him, the cognitive Ryuji jumped backwards and turned to one of his Shadow lackeys. “Hey, finish ‘em for me!” he called, and jumped up, giving the white-suited Shadow a strong high-five. 

Red magical energy surrounded the Shadow. Akira stopped dead. There was no mistaking the aura of a Baton Pass. Akira could sense the Shadow almost grinning as it readied up a magic attack.

Makoto cast Marakukaja on the team in desperation, glancing at Akira. “Just how much  _ did _ you tell Mishima-kun about how we operate?” she huffed, sweat lining her forehead. 

Akira hadn’t thought about that. In truth, he had momentarily forgotten that this was Mishima’s palace, and… he did remember telling Mishima about the epic Baton Pass-chain they had used to defeat Okumura’s army of robots…

A sinking feeling grew in his gut…  _ Was he to blame for ALL of this? _

A searing pain ripped through Akira’s body as the Shadow unloaded its powered-up fire attack onto him. Akira staggered and dropped to one knee, trying to make himself stand. 

“Joker, focus!” Makoto called, driving Johanna over to him with a rumble. A soothing relief washed over Akira, and though his breathing was still harsh, he struggled to his feet. 

The cognitive Ryuji still had the upper hand, but his Shadows were starting to weaken. Just as Akira began to think they were turning the tide, a loud siren started going off.

“Oh shit,” Ryuji groaned, glancing around them. 

Futaba’s voice rang in Akira’s ear. “Joker!” she yelled. “The security level is rising, and fast! Tons of Shadows are converging on us,  _ right now!  _ We have to get out of here!”

Akira took a deep breath to keep his calm. “Glad to have you back, Oracle,” he told her. “Get ready to start running as soon as we come through that door, okay?”

“Roger!” Futaba chirped. 

Akira turned to yell to Makoto. “We have to leave, right now! That siren is bad news!”

Makoto nodded. “I’ll get the backup members, let’s go now!”

Leaping out of the way of one of the cognitive Ryuji’s gunshots, Akira sprang over to Ann, who was beaded with sweat as Celestine sprayed her magic at the cognitive Ryuji with full force. 

“Sleep! Sleep! Ugh, it’s still not working!” she cried. 

“Panther!” Akira shouted. 

Ann jumped. “Joker! What’s the matter?”

“That cognitive Futaba raised the alarm. We’re getting out of here, now,” he ordered. 

Ann nodded, eyes wide. “Got it! Let’s get Skull!”

Ryuji was still pounding at his cognitive double, along with the two remaining shadows. 

“Skull!” Ann and Akira cried. 

Ryuji glanced at them, taking a punch to the face as he did so. 

Ryuji rubbed his jaw. “Owww… you’ll pay for that, you-“

“Skull, no!” Ann cried, running forward to catch him as he stumbled. Akira grabbed his other arm, and they frantically dragged him to his feet. 

“Lemme go! I can still fight!”

Akira had to fight to keep his voice clear over the noise and his own nerves. “Skull, there’s no time. We have to go, now.”

“But I have to-“

Ann put a finger to his lips. “Believe me, I know. But we-“

The cognitive Ryuji took a hefty swing at Ryuji’s face. The shadows would have followed, too, if Ann hadn’t quickly sprayed them with her sleeping magic. 

“-we have to go! Now!” she yelled. 

Ryuji glanced at his cognitive double, who was cackling under his skull mask. “Running away, huh? I knew you couldn’t handle me.”

Ryuji’s eyes narrowed, his arms shaking with rage.

“Ryuji,” Akira said. “Someone needs to get Mona out of here, too.”

The one look at Morgana’s unconscious body on the ground was all Ryuji needed. He smiled tiredly. “Yeah, ok, leader. Let’s get going!”

Akira breathed a sigh of relief before dashing off towards the door. 

The whole group was waiting for them. Futaba in particular seemed anxious. “They’re starting to encircle the convention hall outside…” she told Akira nervously. 

Akira held up a hand. “Wait for it…” His eyes were fixed on Ryuji, who was still facing the enemies. 

Ryuji aimed a huge swing at the cognition, his hands shaking at the apex. Akira was silently pleading for him to do the right thing. “Go…” Ryuji started.

Akira could see the cognitive Ryuji grin as he prepared for another counter. 

“to HELL!”

Instead of swinging, Ryuji chucked his pipe with full force at the cognition’s face.

There was a satisfying CRACK! and the cognition cried out in surprise and pain. In an instant, Ryuji had dived  _ away  _ from the battle, scooped up Morgana, and was sprinting for the door. 

“Go! Go! Go! Get outta here!” he screamed as he raced towards the group. 

When he reached them, the whole group took off.

As they darted across the stage, Futaba came over to Akira. Her little legs had to pump twice for each one of Akira’s long strides. “So, what’s the plan?” she asked him. 

Akira slid to a stop in front of the curtain, and pulled it open for the team. “Run as fast as we possibly can, and try not to die on the way out.”

Futaba laughed. “Sounds good to me!”

Akira’s mind was starting to wander, thinking about Mishima again, but Joker reminded him that this was a life or death situation. Thinking could come later. 

As the team darted underneath the curtain, Akira heard doors bang open. He whipped around through the curtain, letting it fall behind him, and saw that several of the doors into the hall had been knocked open, and more Shadows, some in suits, others in armor and holding riot shields, were pouring into the room. 

“Stop right where you are!” one of them yelled as they rushed to the stairs of the stage. 

The cognitive Ryuji and his thugs couldn’t be far behind. Soon, they would be pinned. Akira had to think fast. 

“What do we do, Joker?” Ryuji looked like he was trying not to appear terrified. 

Akira spent a paralyzed second just staring at the horde of security Shadows, before realizing there was a very easy way out of the situation. 

“The stage. Jump the stage!” he cried. 

Praying the others would follow his lead, Joker sprinted full force toward the center of the stage and leaped off, doing a twist in midair as he landed on his feet. 

The second he touched down, Joker whipped around to make sure his group was safe, and just as Ryuji, who was bringing up the rear, leapt from the stage himself, the cognitive Ryuji burst through the curtains. A large lump was swelling on his forehead. 

Akira and Yusuke helped Ryuji get to his feet quickly, and the team sprinted for the nearest door. Makoto had already reached it, and was holding it open for the rest of the team. “Go go go!” she yelled. 

Akira could hear the cognitive Ryuji yelling at the shadows as he ran down the aisle like his coat was on fire. “Get those assholes! They tried to effin’ kill me!”

The Shadows, who had already started streaming down the stairs as soon as Akira jumped the stage, began surging forward even faster. 

Akira rocketed through the door and Makoto slammed it shut as soon as he passed it. 

Akira glanced at the group, who was wide eyed and breathing hard. Ryuji was still cradling Morgana, who was unconscious but breathing normally. “We’re not done with the running yet, I’m sorry to say. We gotta-“

The door at the end of the hall burst open and the first Shadow came out of it. 

“We gotta  _ go now!” _ Akira cried, looking back at the Shadows as he gently pushed Haru forward. He was determined to bring up the rear. 

The hall was long, and as the thieves neared the first corner, Akira looked back and saw a crowd of Shadows running down the hall, with the cognitive Ryuji nowhere to be found. Sirens were still blaring, and the sound of Akira’s gunshots only added to the noise. 

Ann stood beside him. “We need to keep them at bay, right?” Akira nodded.

Ann pulled out her two submachine guns. “That’s all you had to say!” 

The two of them stayed at the rear of the group, slowly walking backwards as they hailed suppressing fire down onto the mass of Shadows. They were still advancing, just nowhere near as fast. 

They were almost to the bend in the hall. Akira wheeled around, still keeping his gun trained on the Shadows. “Fox!” He shot one of the more aggressive Shadows dead in the face. “I need a beef bowl!” Akira screamed, using their special code word.

Yusuke, who was with the main group further down the hall, turned for a split second. A knowing grin spread across his face. “It’s all yours, Joker!” He lobbed something across the hall, and after a single heartbeat, Akira caught the grenade behind his back and nudged Ann’s shoulder. She was still laser-focused on the approaching Shadow, holding her guns so tightly her knuckles were white. 

When Ann saw what Akira had, she immediately understood. “On three, right?”

Akira nodded as they took their last few retreating shots at the Shadows. They were now completely pinned against the wall. One of Ann’s guns had emptied, which she impatiently tossed aside. 

“One…” Akira said in a low whisper. 

The Shadows, assuming that the two were out of bullets, eagerly charged forward. 

“Two…”

Akira pulled the pin behind his back. Ann’s muscles tensed, finger on her last trigger. 

“Three!” 

In a single motion, Akira chucked the grenade at the mass of Shadows and rolled away, breaking into a dash as he landed. He heard the loud  _ boom _ behind him that meant Ann had done her job. A second later, she came sprinting up to him, burn marks all over her suit. Even her jacket was singed in places.

“Did you get them?” Akira asked. 

Ann was wide eyed with the tension. “I think so. They seemed more surprised than hurt, but I couldn’t pay much attention, I was a  _ little _ on edge.” She laughed, with a mild note of hysteria in her voice. 

Akira nodded sympathetically. “It’s ok. We’ll get out of this.”

Ann nodded, and was about to say something, but the two of them skidded to a stop with the main group, who were in a cluster in front of the main door. They were back in the entrance hall, with the elevator in the center. 

Ryuji was still holding Morgana in one hand, but he was using the other to hold Yusuke steady as he aimed his rifle down the hall. “We got problems, Joker,” he called over his shoulder. 

The left hall was filled with just as many Shadows as the right one they had came from, but the cognitive Ryuji was at the head of them, and they weren’t as easily put off by a few gunshots as Akira and Ann’s group were. 

Haru ran up to them. “Thank goodness you two are safe! The building is on lockdown, all the doors  _ and _ windows are shuttered!”

Fear stabbed Akira in the heart. He glanced at the door, where Makoto was crouched in front of, working quickly. Futaba was leaning over her shoulder, casting nervous glances behind them. “We’re working on getting this open, but we need more time!” she cried, pushing up her goggles to look at Akira. 

“Time” was not exactly what Akira imagined cognitive Ryuji or the security guards were planning on letting them have. He also knew that the Shadows in the right hall wouldn’t be completely put off by a single grenade. They were running out of options. 

Akira gave Futaba a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “Everyone, stay here,” Joker said. “I’ll buy us some time.”

Akira steeled himself, drew his knife, and went to the front of the group. Before he could advance into the hall, Ryuji dumped Morgana into his arms. 

Akira was startled. “Ryuji-“

Ryuji grinned. “I’m not lettin’ you do all the saving around here! I got us into this shit, I’m gettin’ us out.” Without another word, Ryuji charged forward in front of the Shadows.

Yusuke started, and made to run after him, but Akira stopped him. “No!” he cried. “They’ll start fighting for sure and overpower us if we try to group up.”

Yusuke stopped, and got back down on his knee in firing position. “...Very well. But if they attack that  _ fool, _ I’ll be sure to lend my support.”

Akira nodded. “Yeah, he’s really taking a risk…” Akira would have trained his gun on the Shadows too, but he knew it was empty. The whole group seemed to be running out of resources, both physical and mental. 

Instead, Akira focused on Ryuji. 

“Hey guys,” he said almost casually. He had thrown away his pipe in the paper airplane room, so he came sauntering up hefting his shotgun on his shoulder. “Wassup?”

The Shadows, seemingly stunned that a single intruder had come to face them on his own, didn’t attack just yet, they kept glancing between the thieves’ Ryuji and their own. 

The cognitive Ryuji grinned wickedly. “You really came to face me and my  _ whole _ squad by yourself? How stupid can you be?”

_ Come on Ryuji, don’t take the bait.  _ Akira pleaded. 

Ryuji leaned against the wall, like he was loitering at school instead of confronting a squadron of attack demons. “I dunno,” he said after a pause. “But I think  _ you _ give me a pretty good idea.”

Akira had to stop himself from laughing out loud. The cognitive Ryuji’s face narrowed with rage. “You little-“

Suddenly, a smaller Shadow broke away from the group and started sprinting for the thieves, eyes and weapon trained on Futaba and Makoto.

In an instant, Ryuji lunged forward, gripped the Shadow’s shoulder, and spun it around to face him, sending it’s face right into his fist. Ryuji followed up the strike with a knee to the gut, and then whipped around to crack the staggered Shadow in the head with the butt of his shotgun. There was a mighty CLANG! as the Shadow’s helmet reverberated with the force of the blow, and it crumpled to the floor. The whole interaction lasted less than five seconds.

“Uh uh!” Ryuji spat. “My friends’re off limits!” He smacked the ground with the butt his shotgun, making another loud noise, and held it up, sweeping the barrel around at the group of enemies. “If you assholes are gonna kill anyone here, it’s gonna be ME!”

The Shadows took a step backward, now even more wary of the raging Skull. 

The cognitive Ryuji glared at them, before turning back to Ryuji. His mask was chipped and rusted at the edges. “Well, what is it? You wanna round two? Cuz I’ll give ya a round two! Your friends want you to die for ‘em or something?”

Akira could see Ryuji’s face twist in anger for a moment, but then it passed. “Nah,” he said, shrugging. He stepped over the Shadow’s body and started casually pacing, covering the width of the entire hallway. “I don’t give a rat’s ass about you anymore. You’re just threatenin’ my friends. They didn’t do this to me, I did it  _ for  _ them,” he growled. 

Ann’s hands were over her mouth. 

“So, I’m gonna ask  _ you _ that question, loser,” Ryuji spat. “Do  _ you _ wanna round two? Cuz I’ve got a shotgun with your name on it and nothing to lose.” Ryuji spread his arms, standing right in the middle of the hall. “Come get some!”

The cognitive Ryuji actually hesitated. “Y-You know what?” he stammered. 

There was a click from behind Akira, and he turned just in time to see the metal shutters on the front door slide up. “Got it!” Makoto whispered. “Thank you, Oracle, now-“

“Hey! Stop being scared of this asshole and rush him! He can’t stop  _ all _ you wimps!” the cognitive Ryuji screamed, jabbing a finger at Ryuji. 

Yusuke’s finger tensed on the trigger of his rifle, and Akira could see Ryuji stance up. “You  _ bastard-“ _ he scowled.

The Shadows hesitated for another moment, then after realizing their boss was right, charged forward to swarm Ryuji. 

Just before they plowed into Ryuji, he lunged forward and gave the cognitive Ryuji a good punch directly in the jaw, sending him staggering to the ground. Ryuji looked triumphant for a split second, and then the Shadows impacted him.

To put it mildly, all hell broke loose. 

Yusuke and Haru were trying to give Ryuji support, but he was so overwhelmed that it was dangerous to shoot or sling magic into the fray or else they might hit him. Akira was spamming healing magic like never before, and he could hear the rumbling of footsteps behind them that meant the forces in the right hall had finally gotten their act together and were charging towards them. 

“SKULL!” Ann cried. “IT’S DONE, WE CAN GO NOW, PLEASE!” Akira looked at her and saw that she was on the verge of tears. Akira couldn’t blame her. 

Makoto sighed with exhaustion, stretched her shoulders, and charged in to punch a path for Ryuji to escape the mass of shadows. 

Then, as if things couldn’t get any worse, Akira saw the elevator display light up out of the corner of his eye. 

_ Someone was coming. _

The hairs on the back of Akira’s neck stood up, and he knew that they could  _ not _ afford to spend any more time here. 

“Here, take Mona,” Akira told Ann, dumping the cat into her arms. He needed to do something  _ now.  _

When he caught up to Makoto who was in the thick of the fight, she simply nodded at him, and together they carved a path through the shadows to reach Ryuji.

Ryuji was not having a good time. He was cut up, bruised, and bleeding in at least three places. All the Diaramas in the world could only do so much. 

“Sup guys,” he grunted as he blasted a Shadow square in the chest with his shotgun. “How’s it going?”

Makoto’s voice was clear and serious. “Skull, we have to get out of here  _ now.” _

Akira slashed away a shadow with his knife and glanced at the elevator again. The floor indicator was at floor 3. Akira felt an increasing sense of panic welling up inside him. 

Ryuji looked… almost serene. “Got it. Only… if you… say so… leader...” Then he collapsed. Without thinking, Akira caught him as he fell backwards, frantically dragging him away. Makoto knocked aside a Shadow and picked up Ryuji’s legs, and together the two of them scrambled for the door, where the group was desperately beckoning them forward. 

Even as Akira and Makoto almost plowed into the group with how unwieldy their cargo was, Akira could not let them breathe. “Come on, come on, we have to go,  _ now!” _

The two groups of Shadows from both halls had converged and were swarming toward the team, headed by the cognitive Ryuji, back on his feet yet again. Yusuke yanked open the huge double glass doors, and hurried everyone through them. Akira handed off Ryuji to Yusuke, making sure the last person out was himself. 

As Akira frantically spun through the door, the last thing he saw was above the group of Shadows, the elevator doors finally opened, and the unmistakable figure of Mishima’s Akira sprinted out of it and started running down the stairs. 

His piercing gray eyes were staring straight at Akira as he slammed the door shut in a cold sweat.


	8. Chapter 8

“Come  _ on _ Ryuji, you gotta hold still…” Ann’s voice was equal parts exasperated and worried. Hearing that finally brought Akira back to reality. The moment things started going to hell in the Palace, he had been running on pure adrenaline, and as soon as they burst out of the main hall, he hadn’t thought about anything else except getting out of there as fast as they possibly could. He didn’t even remember how they ended up back at Leblanc in one piece. He needed time to… well, he just needed time.

Ryuji laughed weakly as he shrank back from Ann’s steady hands. “I-I’m trying, believe me, it just-” he winced,  _ “hurts,” _ he groaned through gritted teeth. 

“Shut up and stop moving!” Ann snapped. “I didn’t spend seven nights learning how to do stitches for you to mess it all up! Do you  _ want _ to get infected?” 

Ryuji sighed. “No…” he said, exhaustion hanging heavy on his voice. 

“Of  _ course _ you don’t. Yusuke, hold him still,” she ordered.

Yusuke was sitting on the other side of Ryuji in the booth, squeezing his hand and gripping his shoulder. Ryuji visibly flinched every time Ann’s hands moved. Akira cringed. He had a huge sympathy pain problem, and seeing Ryuji like this… ouch. Bless Ann for trying, though, this wasn’t the first time they’d had to do DIY first aid, because Takemi rarely stuck around this late at night, and absolutely no one had any energy left to use healing magic, even if it was safe to go back into the Metaverse, which it wasn’t. Ann had taken it upon herself to learn the essentials of first aid, even if she wasn’t exactly doing the most elegant job of it.

Okay, it looked like Ryuji wasn’t in immediate danger of bleeding out, but Akira wouldn’t let himself relax yet. The others were upstairs, and he was worried about them too.

Taking the stairs two at a time, Akira stumbled into the attic, where Makoto and Futaba were sitting on the sofa, and Haru was holding Morgana on Akira’s bed. If the situation hadn’t been so harrying, Akira would have been embarrassed at the idea of Haru sitting on his bed, but now wasn’t the time. 

Akira hurried over to Haru, and knelt down on the floor to look at Morgana. He was breathing steadily, but… 

“Is he okay?” Akira asked, looking up at Haru, who was inexplicably smiling.

She nodded, looking at him fondly. “Yes, Mona is perfectly fine. He’s just sleeping now.”

Akira breathed a sigh of relief. “Good, I-”

“Though, you really are sweet when you’re worried. You need rest too, you know,” Haru said kindly.

Akira was taken aback. He had forgotten that he was completely exhausted as well, but the second Haru mentioned it, a wave of fatigue washed over his entire body.

“Can’t,” he mumbled, shakily standing up. “Gotta go… Futaba…”

Haru’s eyes widened with concern. “O-Okay, take care of yourself!” she called as Akira crossed the room to sit on the table by the sofa, where Makoto was counseling Futaba.

“It- I’m sorry I was so useless, it was just- it was  _ just _ like me, and it was scary, I’m so sorry-” Futaba was crying quietly, leaning into Makoto, who had both arms around her in a reassuring hug. Akira could tell she was still pretty shaken up about seeing her cognitive duplicate in the Palace. 

“Shhh…” Makoto soothed. “It’s okay. We all would have done the same thing.”

Futaba picked her head up, wiping her eyes with her sleeve. Her glasses were askew. “R-Really?” she asked. “Even you, Queen?” 

Makoto shook her head. “It’s Makoto now, you can relax,” she told her gently. “And… yes, absolutely,” she agreed. 

Futaba’s shoulders dropped, and her breathing steadied. 

“It’s only natural to be discomforted by something like that,” Akira said quietly. Both girls looked up in surprise.

“Akira…!” Makoto said. She gave him a once over and knit her eyebrows. “How… How are you feeling?”

Akira waved his hand. “Fine, fine,” he said casually, which was a complete fucking lie, but he hoped neither of them would recognize it. “Anyways, the important thing is, Futaba, I don’t blame you, and I’m positive no one here would, either.”

Futaba started taking deep breaths. She looked so small compared to Makoto and himself that Akira wanted to just come over there and hug her. “Y-Yeah… You’re probably right, I just… I did  _ nothing _ to help you guys in that first fight, I just… ran away like a little kid.”

Akira shrugged. “Futaba, really, it’s  _ okay,”  _ he said firmly.

“Besides,” Makoto added. “You really saved  _ all _ of us when we were pinned down at the door, I don’t think any of us would have made it out of there if it wasn’t for you.”

Futaba blushed. “Uh, yeah, I guess so… It was more like the adrenaline made it impossible for me to focus on how scared I was, so it wasn’t really… that impressive…” she trailed off weakly, not looking at either of them.

Akira laughed out loud. Makoto glared at him. “Akira! Don’t be mean!” she snapped.

Akira pushed his hair back, still chuckling. “Haha, no no, I’m not laughing at her, it’s just…” he smiled. “How do you think  _ I _ get anything done?” he asked.

Futaba thought for a minute. Then she laughed too. “Yeah, you know, I can’t believe I didn’t notice that until now,” she giggled. “You’re a good guy, Akira,” she said, grinning at him.

Akira’s heart melted. “Thanks, Futaba,” he said, smiling back at her.

Makoto patted him on the shoulder. “Thanks for helping, Akira,” she told him. “Now, why don’t you get some rest,” she offered.

Akira shook his head. “I can’t, I need to go check on Ryuji,” he said, pointing downstairs. He was dimly aware that he might start going in circles if he kept this up, but he didn’t care.

Makoto nodded. “All right… just don’t overwork yourself, okay?”

Akira nodded as he shakily got to his feet and went downstairs, sitting down at the other side of the booth Ryuji, Ann, and Yusuke were sitting in. “Hey guys,” he said coolly. “What’s new?”

Ann looked over at Akira and smiled. “Oh, hey Akira, we’re just- hey,  _ no-” _ Before she finished speaking, Ann turned back to Ryuji and pulled his arm back over to her, which she continued to dab with a washcloth that had some kind of antibiotics on it. 

“Hey,  _ ow, _ watch the arm, ok?” Ryuji sounded bone tired, like he was about to drop at any second. “Oh, hey man,” Ryuji said when he noticed Akira. “Looking pretty good, right?” He grinned, even though his voice was ragged.

It took Akira a minute to figure out what he meant, realizing that Ryuji had completely taken his shirt off, with just his tank top undershirt left on. Under normal circumstances, Akira  _ definitely _ would have blushed at Ryuji’s comment, but he was more distracted by the evidence of Ryuji’s injuries. Though Ann had done an admirable job patching him up, he still had numerous bruises and cuts, he had more band-aids on than Akira had ever used in his life, and he has several nasty gashes, one in his arm and another on his chest, that had been stitched up by Ann, leaving angry red marks on his skin. Akira shuddered involuntarily, his sympathy pain causing his arm to twinge.

Ryuji frowned. “Okay, maybe not then, huh?” he said. His eyes drooped. “Actually, you know what… I’m kind of… tired… Gonna go to… sleeeeep…” 

_ SLAP! _

“OW!” Ryuji yelped, rubbing his cheek, looking incredulously at-

_ “Yusuke?” _ Akira gaped.

Yusuke lowered his hand. “...Goodness, I’m so sorry, I don’t know what came over me, I just… I did not think it would be a good idea for you to lose consciousness at the moment,” he said, eyes just as wide as Ryuji’s.

“Yeah! I said  _ sleep! _ Not go unconscious!” Ryuji cried. Then he sighed, his voice going back to his current tired default. “Ah, whatever. I can’t stay mad at ya, man.”

Ann was waiting patiently for him to calm down. “If you’re done yelling at Yusuke, I can finally finish cleaning-”

“Yes!” Ryuji cheered.

_ “-this _ side,” Ann finished. Ryuji’s head drooped.

Akira reached over the table and patted his hand. “Hang in there, man,” he said. Ryuji just groaned.

Yusuke shifted in his seat so that he had his arm around Ryuji’s shoulder. “Cheer up!” he said. “After all, you were the bravest man I had ever seen back there, halting an entire  _ army _ to protect us all-” Yusuke started talking at a mile a minute, telling a dramatic but not untrue version of the events that had happened just hours before, like they all hadn’t been there to see it.

Ryuji slouched down in his seat, leaning his head on Ann’s shoulder, looking over with tired amusement at Yusuke, who was gesturing forcefully with his free arm. As Ann cleaned Ryuji’s with one hand, she held very tightly to him with her other hand. Akira noticed she was blinking rapidly, and every so often she’d stop and wipe her face with her sleeve.

Akira got the sense that every person at this table was using their own mechanisms to cope, and he was astounded they were all so compatible. 

The almost picturesque scene was broken by Ryuji slapping his forehead, and then cursing, because he had several bruises on his forehead. “Fuuuuhuhuhuuuuuck…” he moaned.

“...What is it?” Akira asked.

“I just remembered... it’s a  _ school night,”  _ Ryuji lamented.

Fuck, Akira had forgotten that too. 

“Shit…” Ryuji closed his eyes. “What’s my  _ mom _ gonna think when I come home at midnight looking like I was just dragged through a paper shredder…”

Everyone was silent, because there was no good thing to say in response. 

Ryuji picked his head up from Ann’s shoulder, scowling. “You guys had better appreciate all this saving you shit I did because I am in  _ pain _ and I just wanna lie down and sleep,” he growled. He slumped his shoulders and sighed to himself. 

Ann sniffled. “We do…” she said quietly. “We really, really do…”

Yusuke patted his arm. “We are all truly in your debt, Ryuji.”

Ryuji blinked, then grinned nervously. “Haha, I… I was kinda expectin’ you guys to treat me like I was being an asshole,” he said sheepishly.

“Are you kidding?” Akira always marvelled at how much Ryuji talked down about himself. “If  _ anyone _ deserves some special treatment right now, it’s you, Ryuji.” He looked Ryuji right in the eyes, which was not something he normally did, because it made him lose focus. They were just so handsome…

Ryuji blushed. “Hey, c’mon man, cut it out. I just… didn’t expect this, ‘sall.” 

There was a small commotion on the stairs, and Morgana scampered into the room, leaping onto the counter. There was a cry of “Mona-chan!” from upstairs.

“So THERE you all are!” Morgana said angrily. “I wondered why I missed the entire battle, but then I remembered,  _ Ryuji  _ knocked me out, and-”

Morgana stopped, looking at Ann, Yusuke, and Akira’s irritated expressions, and taking in Ryuji’s battered, worn out body, seemed to realize that there was something he was missing. 

“...Sorry,” he said, eyes wide. 

Ryuji, who had flinched when Morgana mentioned “Ryuji” knocking him out, now laid his head against the back of the booth, staring at the ceiling. “‘Sfine,” he mumbled.

Ann looked at him with indignance. “It is  _ not _ fine!” she snapped. “Morgana, I dunno if that counter-hit scrambled your brain or something, but that was the  _ cognitive _ Ryuji who knocked you out! Ryuji  _ saved your life!” _

Ann was yelling now, and Morgana looked very, very small. Yusuke had elected to say nothing, just giving the cat a withering glare from across the room.

“I-” Morgana started.

Ann stood up. “We can  _ all _ back him up!” she shouted. “Now apologize to Ryuji  _ right now!” _

Ryuji looked pained. “Ann, it’s fine, really-”

“I’m sorry, Ryuji.” Morgana was staring at the floor. “It was ignorant of me to misremember, and I imagine that… that  _ thing’s _ taunting didn’t help matters-”

“Look, Morgana-” Ryuji sighed, then winced as he turned to face him. “Thanks, but we don’t need to dwell on it. I don't care, I’m not gonna hold anythin’ against you, so there’s just no point.”

Ann looked absolutely aghast as Ryuji just turned back to looking at the ceiling.

Morgana looked like he didn’t really know what to think. “Uh… all right, Ryuji, if you say so…” He jumped off the counter. “...I hope you’re all right,” he finally said as he went back up the stairs.

Akira watched him go. “Guess his ego didn’t like the idea that he was taken out so early while you did all the cool stuff, right Ryuji?” Akira grinned.

Ryuji didn’t respond. Akira had at least been expecting a quiet chuckle. “...Ryuji?” Akira said cautiously.

“Look, man, I appreciate it, but… I’d rather just let everyone be tonight,” Ryuji said finally. 

Yusuke smiled. “How very admirable, Ryuji.”

“It’s not-” Ryuji started, but shut up when Yusuke put an arm back around him. “You know what, sure. It can be admirable if you want.”

Ann sighed. “I don’t know who you are or what you did with the Ryuji I know,” she joked, “But… it _is_ nice to not have to argue with anyone.”

Akira laughed. “Well, glad you three are comfortable. I’m gonna go check on Futaba and Makoto now.”

The three of them waved as Akira left, trying not to let on how tired he was getting. He acknowledged that, yes, he had already checked on them, but something could have happened, and he could be needed for… something. Akira just needed to stay busy, even if that meant going in circles. 

When he reached the attic again, Makoto and Futaba were talking about Featherman with each other. Akira didn’t watch the show or anything, so he was clueless, but he found it amusing that Makoto liked it too. 

“Hey girls!” he greeted as cheerfully as he could manage. “Everyone doing okay?” 

Makoto raised an eyebrow at him. “Yes… we’re fine, and yourself,  _ Joker?”  _ she asked.

Akira smiled, ignoring the emphasis Makoto had placed on his name. “Great! Okay, I’m gonna go check on Morgana n-” As Akira turned to leave, something grabbed his arm and held him in place.

Akira glanced back to see Futaba, holding onto him and looking cross. “Nope. I know what obsessive behavior looks like, and that’s definitely it. No more running yourself ragged for our sake. You’re gonna sit down right here and chill out, damn you!” she ordered.

Makoto nodded in agreement. “Well said!” Without another word, she grabbed Akira’s other hand, and the two of them dragged Akira down onto the sofa before he could protest or try to escape. 

For a moment or two, Akira felt trapped and anxious, but then it passed. He breathed for what felt like the first time in hours. “...Thanks, guys. I really needed that.”

Futaba looked pleased with herself. “I could tell!”

“Yes, you  _ definitely _ needed that,” Makoto said. “You were acting like we were still in mortal danger, like you still needed to be Joker. You don’t.”

Akira wanted to protest, but he shut his mouth because he realized Makoto had nailed it. “How did you-”

“Because I have exactly the same habit,” Makoto said simply.

They looked at each other with even greater respect, if that was even possible.

“...Thanks,” Akira said finally.

“Don’t mention it.”

Futaba waved a hand in between their faces. “Guys? Hellooooo? Can we stop flirting, please?”

Makoto’s face reddened. “Flirting? Futaba, I don’t know what you think flirting is, but this definitely wasn’t…”

Akira was equally embarrassed. “What is it, Futaba?” he asked to change the subject.

Futaba shrugged. “Oh, nothing. Just wanted to make sure you were both still with us. Though… I  _ should _ probably go home soon…” she pondered.

Akira had been thinking that too. It was very late at night, and while most of the team’s family had become used to them staying out later than usual, Akira was more than aware that they were pushing it this time.

“...Yeah, that’s probably a good idea,” he agreed. “Assuming we’re all okay?”

Futaba and Makoto nodded. “Then let’s go,” Makoto said.

As they went down the stairs, Futaba tugged on Akira’s sweatshirt hood. Akira turned back to her. “What is it  _ now?” _ he asked, more amused than exasperated.

“Akira, can I take Mona home tonight?” she pleaded.

Akira tilted his head. “Why?” he asked. 

Futaba kicked at the floor. “Oh, y’know… I like having him around while I work on stuff, I tell him what I’m doing so I don’t make any dumb mistakes… and stuff like that…”

It was a perfectly good excuse, but in her downcast eyes Akira could sense the real reason. She didn’t want to be alone.

Akira smiled fondly. “Of course you can,” he said. “As long as he agrees with it.”

Futaba cheered. “Yippee! Don’t worry, I’ll make sure to ask… not!”

She dashed back upstairs and came back in two seconds, dragging an incredibly startled Morgana in her arms as she raced through the cafe. “Hey, wait! Where are you taking me? I didn’t-” 

“Bye Akira! Bye everyone! See you tomorroooow!” Futaba whooped as she zipped out the door. 

Everyone burst out laughing as the door slammed shut and the bells jingled.

“I wonder how the neighbors feel about having a screaming fifteen year old wake them up at one in the morning,” Makoto laughed.

“Especially one who was a shut-in until very recently,” Haru added, sitting next to her at the counter. They were all very tired, and looked it, but a strange sense of calm settled over the entire cafe.  


“Shiiiit, is it that late?” Ryuji sighed. “My mom is gonna kill me even more than those Shadows did…” 

Ann hugged him tighter. “Please don’t joke about that,” she sniffled.

Akira had an idea, but he had to say it quick before Ryuji left. “Your mom won’t be as mad if you stay over here,” he blurted out.

The room went dead silent. Akira immediately felt awkward. “I mean, uh, as long as you text her that you’ll be staying over, she won’t be  _ as _ mad as if you showed up at one in the morning, right?” he clarified sheepishly. In truth, Akira just wanted to be able to keep an eye on Ryuji to make sure he was okay, and that he was still… you know, alive in the morning. All eyes were on him, especially Ryuji’s, and it made Akira wish he could use a Smokescreen in the real world.

“I mean… yeah… probably…” Ryuji said slowly. Then he rubbed his temples. “I dunno man, I’m just really fuckin' tired, and if you’re willing to let me sleep here I’ll take you up on it.”

Akira smiled nervously. “Great!”

“Actually, yeah, knowing me I’d prob’ly fall asleep on the train and miss my stop home…” Ryuji mused. “Heh, no homo though, right?” he said weakly.

Akira gave Ryuji a pained look. He’d be embarrassed and deny it, but he was tired as fuck, Ryuji was tired as fuck, and they needed to wait until the morning to deal with stuff like this or they’d drop dead of exhaustion.

Ryuji blinked. “How’dja say all that with just your eyes, man…” he gasped.

Akira tried not to look at everyone in the room, but it was hard to miss their knowing smiles.

“All right, you two,” Makoto said sweetly. “We’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” 

Ann grinned. “Yeah, for sure! And Ryuji, if you could send a picture of what he looks like when he’s sleeping, that’d be-”

_ “That’s fine, thanks-” _ Akira felt like he was dying.

“Sleep well, both of you,” Yusuke told them as he put on his jacket. 

"Ugh, _sleep-"_ Ann cried wistfully.

“Bye now! Take care of yourselves!” Haru said cheerfully as the four remaining thieves exited the cafe.

Ryuji and Akira were left alone, with an awkward silence building. 

“So, uh… wanna go up and sleep?” Akira offered finally.

“Yeah! Thanks,” Ryuji said, a little too quickly, shakily standing up.

Akira hurried over to him, putting an arm around his body for balance.

“No no, I can walk, man, it’s fine,” Ryuji said with a (forced, Akira suspected) smile. But he didn’t insist. 

As the two of them climbed the stairs, Akira turned back to Ryuji. “You’re taking the bed, by the way,” he ordered.

“WHAT?” Ryuji cried. “Fuck no, I’d never-” he stumbled on the stairs, banging his shin against the edge of the landing with a painful sounding  _ thud. _ “Ow ow ow ow owww…” He clenched his teeth. “Fine…” he groaned. “You win…”

“Wonderful,” Akira said happily. His bed was already made, so he went and grabbed one of his spare pillows and blankets to put on the couch. Ryuji limped over to the bed, stared down at it for a good minute, then carefully, almost cautiously, got on it.

“Can’t believe I’m doin’ this,” he muttered as he got comfortable.

“'Night, Ryuji…” Akira said. Ryuji only grunted in response.

Akira turned off the light and lay down on the sofa. It was a bit small, since he had had a growth spurt recently, but if he drew his knees up, he could fit nicely. 

Akira looked over at Ryuji, whose dim outline he could barely make out in the moonlight that streamed in through the window. He had turned so that he was facing the wall, his back to Akira. 

Akira wanted to think of something to say to Ryuji, maybe thank him yet again for everything he did that day, but his tongue felt like it was made of sandpaper, refusing to move and feeling uncomfortable in his mouth. 

He was just about to close his eyes when he heard Ryuji’s voice. 

“...I lied, y’know.”

Akira craned his neck to look back at Ryuji. He hadn’t moved. “Huh?”

“About why I shut Morgana off.” Ryuji’s voice was completely flat, without his normal cocky note. “It wasn’t cuz I didn’t care, I just… didn’t wanna think about... that guy anymore.”

...Oh. “Ryuji, it’s-”

“I’m really really fuckin’ sorry, man,” Ryuji said, more loudly, turning over so that he was lying flat on his back. “Don’t go saying it’s all fine cuz I saved your ass, if I hadn’t gone chargin’ in there in the first place, your ass prob’ly wouldn’tve needed saving in the first place.”

Akira shook his head, even though he knew Ryuji couldn’t tell. “It’s all right, really, sometimes things just… they just hit a nerve. Don’t you remember how I was when I first saw that… that me?” 

Ryuji grunted. “Yeah, but… yours was much better than mine. He… he just…” Ryuji sounded like every word was an effort to force out. Akira knew it was hard for him to be open without making jokes and talking down about himself. “He just… reminded me  _ so much _ of me, but in all the worst ways, y’know?”

Akira didn’t know, he wasn’t Ryuji, but he could try to empathize. He was good at that. Then Akira remembered something. He turned over so that he was lying on his stomach, so that he could look at Ryuji without him being upside down. “Not entirely... Did you see how he made sure the other Futaba was safe? That reminded me  _ so much _ of you, but in a really  _ good  _ way.”

Ryuji chuckled quietly. “You… really think…? Huh… thanks, man.”

Akira had realized something else, too. The cognitive Ryuji had seemed completely loyal to Mishima, and for the most part was incredibly cocky and vulgar, but there was that little bit of good that Mishima seemed to recognize… Maybe that meant there was still hope for him, too… 

Akira scoffed at his own idealism.  _ It’s not that simple, _ he reminded himself. Staying focused and driven was no longer a luxury, it was a  _ necessity. _ He had to remember that.

There was silence for another minute, until Ryuji spoke again, more grimly this time. “...We gotta change his heart.”

It was as if Ryuji could read his thoughts. “What do you mean?” Akira asked.

“We gotta help him get better, I don't like thinkin' about him when he's all... fucked up like this.”

Akira nodded sadly. “You said it, man.”

“Maybe then I can work on being a better friend,” Ryuji said darkly. 

...Huh? “Wh-”

Ryuji cut him off with a hollow laugh. He was staring up at the ceiling, hands behind his head, watching Akira’s glow in the dark stars. “I ain't stupid. I know the reason he thinks of me like that is cuz that's all I've shown to him. It... it hurts, man.”

Akira’s heart felt like it was being dunked in acid. He hadn’t thought of it from Ryuji’s perspective, how much of a gut punch that must have been. “Whatever. Doesn’t matter,” Ryuji said flatly. “G’night, Akira.”

Akira wanted to say something else, but Ryuji turned back over so that his back was to him.

Akira sighed. “Good night, Ryuji…” he whispered. Then the exhaustion finally took over, and he immediately fell asleep.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> after i lost my inspiration SUPER hard the past month, i'm back! i wrote this entire thing in pretty much one day, thanks to a VERY nice comment that reminded me how fun it is to work on this. anyways, here you go! i hope you liked it! it was nice to have everything simmer down a bit, that's why this chapter's a little shorter than most of them, it's more like an interlude.


	9. Chapter 9

Standing at the train platform the next day, Akira felt like his whole body was made of lead. If he had been overwhelmed with exhaustion the night before, getting four hours of sleep made it feel less overwhelming and more pervasive, not like he was about to pass out any second, but like he was moving through molasses. The tantalizing little bit of sleep he had gotten had only served to make him want to go immediately back to bed. 

Unfortunately, school was a thing. 

Ryuji was there too, yawning for probably the twentieth time that morning. “Y… You think we could manage a nap on the train?” he asked, rubbing his eyes.

Akira shook his head. It was times like this when he hated being the sensible one. “We’d probably both never wake up in time for school,” he said dejectedly.

Ryuji groaned. “I  _ knew _ you were gonna say that.”

“‘Morning, boys.” Ann’s normally cheerful voice was very subdued that morning.

Both Akira and Ryuji raised a hand. “‘Morning,” they grunted.

Ann’s head kept drooping. “How’s your… everything, Ryuji?”

Ryuji shrugged. He and Akira were both glad that it wasn’t summer anymore, their summer uniforms would have left Ryuji’s scarred and bruised arms completely open, which would lead to some very awkward questions. “Still livin’,” Ryuji said.

Ann nodded sadly. “Sorry, did I do a bad job?”

“You kiddin’?” Ryuji laughed. “I’d probably be barely alive if it wasn’t for you, give yourself a break.”

Ann laughed dryly. “Please don’t exaggerate.”

Akira glanced around them at the other students. “Uh, guys, maybe don’t call  _ so _ much attention to us?”

Fortunately, at that point the train started pulling in. Ann jumped at the noise. “Oh, Akira?” she asked, tapping him on the shoulder.

Akira looked back at her. “What’s up?”

Ann looked apologetic. “We… we aren’t gonna go to the palace today, are we?”

Akira shook his head immediately. “Definitely not. Probably not even tomorrow, either.” If they went in when they were all this fatigued they would certainly not have a good time.

Ann sighed with relief. “Thank  _ god,” _ she breathed. “I’m so tired I think I might actually sleep in class today.”

Ryuji impatiently waved them into the train and Ann followed, dragging Akira by the hand, which he thought was a bit excessive, but he didn’t mind one bit. 

“So that means it’s your job to wake me up, okay?” she teased.

Akira laughed. “You say that like I won’t be sleeping too.”

Ann raised her eyebrows. “Oh yeah! You’re a delinquent, you can get away with that, right?”

“Hey!” Akira feigned indignation. Coming from Ann, he knew she was just teasing him.

Ryuji rolled his eyes. “Aw, c’mon. Jokes like that don’t even work anymore cuz we all know how much of a softie this guy is.” He grabbed a ceiling strap and leaned against the window of the train.

Akira followed his lead as he felt the train starting to pull away. 

Ann tapped his shoulder. “Don’t you want the seat?” she asked.

Akira hadn’t even entertained the idea of taking the empty seat. “Huh? No no, you should have it!”

Ann smiled gratefully at him as she sat down.

Ryuji didn’t look up from his phone. “Just provin’ my point…” he muttered.

Ann laughed out loud, and Akira blushed, because he was absolutely right.

* * *

It was one of the most exhausting school days Akira could remember since the day Kasumi awakened to her Persona. Granted, that wasn’t very long ago, only a week or two, though it seemed like forever. The only difference was that instead of just himself being incredibly tired, it was their entire group. 

Akira and Ryuji made a quick run to the school store at lunchtime, and they ran into Makoto and Haru in the hall, who looked just as worn out as the rest of them. Akira imagined Yusuke at his school, trying to paint in this state. In his daydream, Yusuke fell asleep face first into his paint.

“What’s so funny?” Ryuji demanded.

Akira composed himself. “Uh- I’ll tell ya later, sorry,” he snickered, brushing his hair out of his eyes. 

Ryuji, trying to hide his awkward gait, joined Akira as they went back down the hall to their classroom with their bagful of freshly purchased bread, but they were both cut short when a harried figure rounded the corner far too quickly and plowed right into Akira.

“Dr. Maruki?” Akira was amazed to see him in the school itself, he usually never left the practice building, which was where the nurse’s office was, unless he was scheduled to lecture. 

“Kurusu? I’m so sorry, are you all right?” Maruki looked panic-stricken. 

Akira laughed. “I’m fine! Just… be a little more careful around these corners, okay?”

Maruki nodded, awkwardly adjusting his glasses, which had almost fallen off his face. “Y-Yes, my apologies. I just wanted to get some more snacks before the school sold out, and I suppose I was in a bit of a rush, wasn’t I?”

Ryuji laughed. “Don’t blame ya, this bread is good stuff!”

Maruki seemed to just notice Ryuji was present. “Sakamoto-kun! How are you doing?”

“Aw, I’m great!” Ryuji forced himself to say.

Maruki glanced back at the school store, where a line of students was slowly forming, before looking back at Ryuji with a warm smile. “That’s wonderful, Sakamoto, you take care of that leg, all right?”

Ryuji gave him a mock salute. “Will do, Doc!”

Maruki gave the two of them a good look. “You boys look tired today… is something the matter?”

Ryuji laughed far too loudly. “Ahahaha! Studying, Doc!”

Akira played along, nodding. “Yeah, we were up a little too late last night.” That was technically true.

“Ah. Yes, indeed. Please take care of yourselves first, okay?” Maruki nodded sympathetically.

Akira smiled. Even though they were technically lying, it felt good to be worried about. “Thank you, Dr. Maruki.”

Maruki ran a hand through his hair. “Yes, well, I had better get going, I have a lecture to give to the first years as soon as lunch is over, so I should stock up now for after school.”

Akira realized something, but he wasn’t sure if he had the guts to put it into motion. “Well, Dr. Maruki, I hope you don’t mind if I stop by soon for some of those snacks, huh?”

Maruki beamed. “Of course! Sakamoto-kun is more than welcome too!”

Ryuji shook his head. “No thanks, once was  _ more _ than enough,” he laughed.

Maruki shrugged, but he was still smiling. “As you wish. Well, I’m off! See you boys later, all right?”

The two of them waved. “Seeya, Doc!” Ryuji called as Maruki raced to join the line of students at the store.

As Akira and Ryuji climbed the stairs back to the second floor, Akira decided he did have the guts to pull this off, and took his phone out of his pocket to send a text.

**Akira:** Dr. Maruki? Is it all right to… like…  _ encourage _ someone close to me to go and talk to you?

**Akira:** I trust you, and I think he could use it.

With a sigh, Akira closed his phone.

Ryuji, who was holding Akira’s classroom door open for him, looked puzzled. “Why so down, man? We got all this bread!” He held up his bag with a pleased grin, which made him look even cuter.

Akira made his face return to normal. “Down? Who’s down?” he joked. “If anything,  _ you’re _ down, cuz you’re shorter than I am.”

Ryuji scowled. “Low blow, man…” but he didn’t ask any more questions.

* * *

It was unusually warm for mid-October, and light rain fell onto the street as Akira and the other thieves left the school, planning to walk to the train station together like they sometimes did. Ugh, Akira hated warm rain. 

“Do you think a katana would break on metal armor?” Ryuji asked out of nowhere.

Makoto stared at him. “...What?”

“You know, like in video games you can always just swing away at anything that moves.” Ryuji mimed a slash with his empty hands. “But what about real life? Would something that solid break the sword?”

Ann yawned. “I have…  _ no _ idea what you’re talking about, Ryuji,” she said sleepily.

“Actually, even the earliest katana would not break easily, even if swung against metal armor, because they were created and folded in such a way as to bend and not break, if at all possible.”

Ryuji nodded. “Ohhhh. That’s cool. Thanks, Yusuke.”

Akira blinked. “Wait, Yusuke?” He glanced to his left. Yusuke was walking beside them, holding a clear plastic umbrella and looking quite natural. He waved politely. 

“Hello.”

Everyone jumped. Makoto yelped. Even Ryuji looked surprised. “What’re  _ you _ doing here, man???”

Yusuke looked surprised. “I simply thought I would stop by to see you all. My, I had assumed I had been noticed by now. My apologies for startling everybody.”

Akira pulled up his sleeves. “Yeah, sorry, we’re… all pretty tired.”

Yusuke nodded. “I understand. I’m quite exhausted as well. I had quite a few people laugh at me when I fell asleep in my paint.”

Akira snorted, then quickly stifled his laugh.

Ryuji scowled. “There you go again!” he told Akira. “But, wow, Yusuke, how’d you know all that?”

Yusuke frowned. “Even a mere cursory search on the internet told me that much, Ryuji.” He looked around at everyone. “Do you mean to tell me none of you have done any research at all so that you may better handle your own weapons in battle?”

Akira had quite honestly forgotten that Yusuke used katana himself. He rubbed his neck sheepishly. “Honestly, I kinda just… slash away and hope for the best.”

Haru shrugged. “Not much to an axe, I suppose.”

Yusuke shook his head disdainfully. “Considering I seem to be the only one whose Japanese heritage followed them into the Metaverse, I feel like I must represent it properly.”

Akira’s brain was going too slowly to process what Yusuke was saying. “That’s great, Yusuke!”

Yusuke drew himself up. “I take my swordplay  _ seriously.” _

“Kurusu?”

Everyone jumped again, including Yusuke this time. Akira was panicked that someone had heard them talking about the Metaverse, but when he turned around, it was simply Mishima, with his school jacket tied around his waist and looking very handsome, as usual.

Ryuji groaned. “I am  _ so tired _ of being snuck up on,” he groaned.

Mishima narrowed his eyes. “I didn’t  _ sneak up, _ Sakamoto, I-”

“Yes we know, Yuuki, sorry, we’re just… a little drained right now, okay?” Akira cut in quickly. He could feel the unease from the entire group as their newest target stood within arm’s length of them, and he wanted to do this quick.

Mishima’s face immediately softened. “Oh… It’s all right, Kurusu… A-Akira,” he said with an embarrassed smile. “Sorry, I’m working on it, hehe…” A cute little blush grew on his cheeks.

A quick glance at the team told Akira they were extraordinarily confused. Shit, he really should have mentioned this sooner. “Uh… You guys go on without me, all right? Go take a nap, that’s an order,” he said, only half-jokingly.

The team hesitated, then Makoto nodded slowly, and they withdrew.

Mishima was visibly more relaxed now that they were alone. He stood straighter, more confidently. “So, uh, Akira, I’ll be quick-”

“Is this about the Phantom Thieves?” Akira asked. He consciously kept his eyes up because he knew they would slip down if he wasn’t careful.

Mishima laughed. “Uh- I mean, it could be! That was what I wanted to ask, I noticed you all seem really tired today, were you…” he looked around and lowered his voice.  _ “On a mission?” _ he finished.

Akira opened his mouth, but then he remembered  _ what _ mission they had been on. “...No,” he said finally. “We were… studying.” Akira squeezed his eyes shut. He was so bad at lying to friends, now Mishima was  _ sure _ to know something was up... 

“Wow…” Mishima breathed. This was it. “...You guys are really studious! Is there a test soon that I don’t know about?”

Akira kept his sigh of relief as quiet as possible. “No, it’s nothing like that…”

In the back of his mind, Akira remembered what he had been wanting to ask Mishima, and Maruki’s response. 

**Maruki:** If you truly think it would help them, then by all means. My door is open to anyone, at any time.

**Maruki:** Actually, maybe not on Sundays, because the school is closed.

**Maruki:** Or very late at night, not because I would rather sleep, but because I most likely wouldn’t be able to give very good help when I’m half awake.

**Maruki:** Or-

Akira tuned out the memory at that point. The specifics didn’t matter, all he needed to do was the hinting.

“-and, well, I just thought I might ask again, did you REALLY mean what you said the other night, or were you just saying it to be nice-”

But how to go about it?

“-which I would completely understand, but again, I just thought I would ask, it’s okay if you’d rather-” Mishima was talking so fast Akira could barely tell what he was saying.

“Yuuki, do you need anyone to talk to?” Akira blurted out. 

“-not, I- huh?”

Akira winced. No going back now, I guess. “Well, it’s just, everyone needs to talk to someone, and I happen to know that Dr. Maruki-”

“Oh, but I have you!” Mishima interrupted with a smile. 

Akira blinked. Somehow he hadn’t been expecting that. “Right, but I was just saying if you need someone… more qualified, I’m good friends with Dr. Mar-”

Mishima shook his head. “No one’s more qualified for me to talk to than you, Kurusu!” he beamed. 

Shit. This wasn’t going to plan. He was in a tough spot, because he didn’t want to alienate Mishima further by implying there was something “wrong” with him, so he couldn’t really push any harder than this...

“That was actually part of what I was asking… Thank you for worrying about me, Kurusu…” Mishima said quietly. “And… well, if we wanted to talk, then would you maybe want to go on a… a follow-up date?” Mishima barely got the words out before he covered his face. “I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have asked that!” he cried.

God, he was cute. The rational part of Akira’s brain told him that he really shouldn’t be going on any more close outings with who was now considered the enemy, except ones that were required to gather intel, like the first “date”... No, he couldn’t even put that in quotes anymore, could he? They were real dates, by his own admission. He was in way over his head now. 

While the rational part of Akira’s brain was probably right, the emotional side of his brain was telling him that... maybe it was possible to change someone’s heart without using force. If Mishima didn’t want to see Dr. Maruki, then… maybe Akira could do it himself. It was a far-flung hope, but they were going to take a break before the next infiltration anyways, so… why not, right?

One returned look at Mishima sealed the deal for Akira. He couldn’t say no to that face.

And so, with the logical part of Akira’s brain screaming in protest, Akira said. “Sure thing! I’m free all day tomorrow after school, I’ll go wherever you want!”

Mishima uncovered his face, looking stunned. “Really?” he asked.

Akira smiled. “Of course! I had a really nice time the other night, I’d be glad to do it again!”

“Wow…  _ wow,  _ okay!” Mishima said happily. “Thank you so much, Akira, I’ll, uh, I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?” He looked absolutely giddy.

“Okay!” Akira agreed. 

Mishima suddenly looked anxious. “I should, uh, really get going though, I didn’t mean to take up so much of your time, and I have a lot of work to do on the, uh, Phan-Site and stuff, y’know… as usual.” He laughed nervously. “Don’t worry, I’ll be thinking of you the whole time!” he said cheerfully. 

Akira wasn’t exactly sure that was what he wanted. “That’s okay, I-”

Mishima didn’t seem like he was going to listen. “See you later, Kurusu!” With that, he ran off.

Now that he was alone, Akira only then realized that he had been standing in the gross warm rain this entire time, and was now pretty much drenched. 

As he walked to the train station to go home, the rational part of his brain, the Joker part, told him that that could have gone better, while the Akira part of his brain told him that that had gone  _ perfectly.  _

Akira quieted both parts of his brain down by saying that, despite the parts at the end of the conversation that made Akira uneasy, and Mishima’s brief disdain for his teammates, it would be okay! He could talk to him properly on their date the next day, and that will help him for sure! 

_...Right? _

* * *

“...It might…” Morgana didn’t sound very sure.

Akira sighed and plopped down on his bed. “Look, I know it’s idealistic. I’ll be the first to admit that. But I  _ need _ to try and do this… I need to.” Akira rubbed his eyes, evening sleepiness quickly overtaking him. He had went to the arcade that night, with Goro Akechi of all people, so on top of the fatigue from the night before, he was run pretty ragged socially as well.

“Look, I’m not saying it’s impossible…”

Akira tried not to sigh. “...But?” he said blankly. 

Morgana curled up next to Akira on his bed. “But he’s… to put it bluntly, really distorted. I could tell just from our first visit to his palace. If you think you can get through to him, then by all means go ahead…” Morgana sighed. “Look, what I’m saying is don’t expect miracles, all right?”

Akira couldn’t help but sigh this time. “I know… I know.” He flopped down on the pillow, staring up at the ceiling, trying to figure out a solution for this increasingly more complicated puzzle.

Morgana gave Akira one final worried look, but soon put his head down, and Akira could tell he was fast asleep. He must have been tired too.

Akira closed his eyes and began to think.

Mishima’s distortions came from his desire to be important, but more than that… he wanted to be  _ powerful. _ He’d spent so long being overlooked and beaten down that he wanted, no, he  _ needed _ to  _ be _ somebody worth mentioning. When the Phantom Thieves came along… that was his chance. He probably hadn’t started out with the same intentions… but now here he was.

_ But how to make it better…? _

Since the Phantom Thieves… or, more accurately, Akira himself, were the ones he’d latched onto to feel powerful… maybe that meant he could make him understand that he was successful and worthy all on his own.

Yeah. That was what he had to do, Akira decided. He pulled out his phone to send a text, but then decided it would be better to call for this one. He quickly dialed one of the numbers he knew by heart, and the other end picked up almost immediately.

“Makoto, can I ask you something?”

Akira could hear Makoto sigh. “If this is about Eiko, I already told you we can’t do any more right now.”

Akira shook his head. “No, it’s not that. ...It involves the team.”

Immediately, Makoto was all business. “What do you need me to do?”

Akira smiled at Makoto’s willingness. She was truly a lifesaver. “I need you to go to the airsoft shop for me tomorrow. If you tell the owner you’re a friend of mine, he’ll understand. I’ll let him know too, and send you a list of what we need.”

There was a pause. “...Yes, I think I can do that. But why? What’s going on, Akira?”

**“** Everything’s fine. I’m just going to be busy tomorrow, and we need better equipment as soon as possible to stand more of a chance when we return to the Palace. Don’t worry, I’ll pay you back the next time we meet up.” 

“That’s not what I’m worried about… Akira, you aren’t planning anything… incredibly stupid and potentially dangerous, are you?” Makoto sounded concerned, she definitely wasn’t joking.

“Technically I do that every time we infiltrate a Palace.” Akira couldn’t help chuckling a little.

Neither could Makoto. “Fair point. All right then, I won’t ask any more questions, I trust that you have a good reason. Should we meet up the next day, then?”

Akira grimaced. “That sounds good. No sense delaying anymore once we’re all rested again.”

“Right. ...And Akira?”

“What’s up?”

“...Thanks for trusting me.”

Akira smiled fondly. “Always, Makoto. I’ll fill you all in soon, okay? Promise.”

“Promise,” Makoto echoed. “Bye for now, Akira.”

“Bye.” Akira hung up and plugged his phone in to charge before curling up in his bed. Regardless of everything that was going on, he was determined to finally get a good night’s sleep for once.

* * *

Yuuki was unbearably anxious. He was wearing the same jacket from before, because Kurusu seemed to like it, and he had brought money to pay for their food, but he was still imagining everything that could go wrong. He was really good at that.

He was waiting awkwardly outside of a nice little cafe he had picked out in Kichijoji. The early fall chill had returned from the vacation it had been on the day before, and Yuuki was wishing he had worn a hoodie instead. To pass the time, he pulled out his phone and started checking the Phan-Site. The requests had been dwindling ever since Okumura died, which was inexcusable. How could these people not see that the Phantom Thieves were the best thing that had ever happened to Japan?

Still, though, it was euphoric to select the requests to delete or accounts to ban. These people deserved it, for not treating the Phantom Thieves and his site like they deserved! Furiously typing on his phone calmed him down a little bit, in its own way, until he-

“Hi, Yuuki!”

Yuuki immediately stuffed his phone back into his jacket. “Kurusu- uh, Akira! Hello!”

Akira looked good in anything, but the after-school jacket he had on along with his always sharp glasses made Yuuki blush. Akira smiled at him. “Hey, there we go! Getting better, right?”

Yuuki laughed. “Uh, I guess so, heh… It’s still natural for me to call you Kurusu, sorry…”

Akira shook his head and took Yuuki’s hand so naturally, Yuuki felt like he had to have practiced it. “Don’t worry about it,” he said kindly. “Anyways, cute place you found! I love cafes.”

Yuuki was speechless.  _ How was it allowed for one boy to be this charming? _ “Uh- I, yeah, heh, since last time we were at your cafe, I figured I should take you to one I picked out…”

Akira opened the door and held it open for Yuuki. “After you, admin!”

Yuuki giggled. It was cool to be called that, even if Akira was teasing him.

The cafe was very cozy, just like Yuuki had hoped. Light streamed in from the front windows, and jazz music was playing from a radio up front, creating a very pleasant atmosphere. Yuuki was pleased he had chosen so well. They found a table and sat down.

“So, what’ll you get?” Akira asked. “Don’t worry about how expensive it is, I’ll pay for it,” he said casually.

Yuuki blinked. “Akira, I was the one who asked  _ you _ out, remember? I have to pay!”

Akira waved his hand. “Please, I need to pay you back  _ somehow _ for all your hard work you do for us!”

...Oh. That felt better. Yuuki relaxed. “Ah… Well, if you  _ insist…” _

“I do!” Akira was grinning devilishly. Yuuki’s heart fluttered at the sight, and it virtually soared when he thought about how much Kurusu appreciated his work he did for them.

_ Even if he’s the only one… _ Yuuki thought darkly.

“So, what’ll ya have?” Akira asked again.

“Oh! Uhhh… Well, I have always liked crepes… though that probably isn’t the manliest choice, is it?”

Akira scoffed. “Psh, like that matters. The manliest choice you can make is the one you want. I think I’ll have a parfait, actually.”

Yuuki nodded approvingly. “Ooh, that does sound good…” Just then, the waiter came over to their table and Akira ordered for the both of them, so confidently that it made Yuuki speechless yet again.

“Yes, that’s all, thank you so much!” Akira finished as the waiter left, then leaned his elbows on the table, staring across at Yuuki.

Yuuki suddenly felt embarrassed.

“So, did ya have anything you wanted to talk about?” Akira asked. He was smiling fondly.

Yuuki played with his jacket zipper. “Uh, I, not really, of course there’s Phan-Site stuff, but… mostly I just wanted to thank you some more, Akira…”

Akira tilted his head. “Thank me? What on earth for?”

“Well, uh… you’ve just… always been so kind to me, and I, uh… it means a lot… es-” _ pecially when no one else is, _ is what Yuuki wanted to say, but he bit back that last part.

Akira’s gaze softened. “Oh… well, of course. Because you’re my friend, and… well, right now I’m a little worried about you… we all are. You do know you don’t have to work yourself to the bone for us, right?”

Yuuki groaned. “Akira, we don’t need to go over this again. I told you, I  _ do _ need to do this, and I  _ want _ to. So please, can’t you just let me do my job for you?” Coming from anyone else, Yuuki might have thought they were simply trying to stifle him, but he knew Kurusu was nice, he just didn’t understand how much this meant. He  _ definitely _ knew that Kurusu’s other friends didn’t worry about him, he was just saying that to be nice. And Yuuki appreciated it, really, it was just… “Come on, don’t you guys have more important things to worry about? Focus on your next big target, for example. I know-”

“Here you are, sirs!” A plate and a tall glass were set down in front of Yuuki and Akira respectively, each carrying their yummy looking orders. The appearance of the waiter had stalled the conversation, and as he dove into his crepe, Yuuki hoped it didn’t start up again.

* * *

_ Okay, _ Akira thought to himself as he ate his  _ (delicious,  _ it should be noted) parfait.  _ Time to change tack. _

“All right, Yuuki,” Akira told him. “But… the work you do  _ is _ excellent, I have to say that.”

Mishima blushed. “Well.. thank you…” he said softly.

“You’re a wonderful person, Yuuki,” Akira said. He sincerely hoped that didn’t seem forced and out of nowhere, because he truly did mean it. “I’m so glad to call you my boyfriend, even excluding all the excellent manager stuff you do.”

Mishima grimaced as he swallowed a bite of his crepe. “...I don’t need your pity, Kurusu…” he whispered.

Akira was shocked.  _ Pity? _ “No. Uh uh, Yuuki. I can’t let you believe that. I’m not pitying you, I genuinely, seriously love you, so  _ so _ much. You’re an amazing, thoughtful, and brave person and I’m so proud to have met you.” Akira realized he might have been overdoing it a little bit, but he couldn’t help it. Everything he had been wanting to say to Mishima since he had entered his Palace just came flooding out, and it was all he could do to stop himself from tearing up a little.

When Akira looked up, he saw Mishima’s eyes were wide. “Wow… uh… wow, Kurusu… I mean… You were always nice to me, but I always found it hard to believe I really… actually mattered…” His crepe lay on his plate, half-eaten and forgotten.

“You do, Yuuki, You really, really do,” Akira said pleadingly. His heart was racing. Could this actually be working? “You’re so, so important to me, with or without the Phantom Thieves,” he said with as much conviction as he could possibly muster.

Mishima was blushing deeply, but he was also smiling. “Wow…” was all he seemed to be able to say.

Akira waited for him to recover, even being so bold as to eat a little more of his parfait. He stopped immediately when he saw Mishima’s mouth open.

“Your support… means so much…” he said breathlessly. “I know you said it doesn’t matter, but now I’ll be  _ sure _ to try my hardest on the Phan-Site, for you!” Mishima was smiling happily.

Akira furrowed his brow. Normally that would be a red flag, but if he really had gotten through to Mishima and made him believe he was important by himself, then… the Phansite was fine…? Maybe?

“...Thank you, Yuuki,” he said at last.

“Of course!” Mishima chirped. “It’s the least I can do, after all, for my boyfriend.” He said that last part so delicately, and gave Akira a look of tentative happiness. Akira wanted to kiss him right then and there, but the table was in the way, and also he was a loser with no guts. 

“Well then, let’s finish this excellent food, shall we?” Akira offered.

* * *

Saying their goodbyes outside the cafe was quite strange to Yuuki. For once, he felt like he was actually valued. Though, at the same time… it made him feel a little worse about everyone else who didn’t see him the same way Kurusu did.

_ No need to think about that right now, _ he told himself. He was more focused on the fact that Kurusu was leaving. He knew they’d see each other again at school the next day, but… he already missed him.  _ God, how pathetic, right? _ he laughed to himself.

“I’ll miss you,” Akira said, as if he could read Yuuki’s thoughts.

“Huh? Oh! Me too… definitely,” Yuuki said quietly, not looking at Kurusu. The evening chill made him pull his jacket closer over himself.

Akira blew him a kiss, which made Yuuki lightheaded. “Well, see you tomorrow! I had a really nice time with you today, let’s do it again soon!”

Yuuki nodded, still reeling. “Y-Yeah… definitely…”

With a wave, Kurusu set off down the promenade, casually looking into the shops on his way.

Yuuki shook himself off to clear his head, and went down a side street. His house was by a different line, so he couldn’t walk with Kurusu to the station, unfortunately.

As he walked down the street, with the day stores of Kichijoji closing their doors and the bars just starting to turn on their lights, Yuuki reflected on everything that had happened.

Kurusu… really  _ liked _ him. Not just liked him, from the sound of it, but really  _ cared _ about him. That was… amazing. Still a little hard to believe that the  _ leader _ of the  _ Phantom Thieves _ thought he was worth something, but… that meant he was getting somewhere. The Phan-Site  _ was _ helping him become somebody worth a damn, if it helped him become close with Kurusu.

Though a part of him felt bad about it, he resented the others even more now. What had they ever done for him, even though he spent hours and hours every day helping  _ them! _

_ Nothing, _ Yuuki thought bitterly to himself as he paid the train fare.

They were just Kurusu’s friends, which made them valuable, certainly, but Kurusu didn’t deserve people like them…  _ and neither did he, _ Yuuki reminded himself.

Still, though, he had Kurusu- no, he had  _ Akira. _

_ Yeah, _ Yuuki told himself as he boarded his train.

He had Akira.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi! i'm back! this might be a bit of a slow chapter, but i wanted to have more of an interlude before the story kicks up again. next chapter will have a lot of palace stuff as they start the infiltration proper, so i hope you're as excited to read that as i am to write it!


	10. Chapter 10

Akira’s afternoon peacefulness was interrupted by Makoto Niijima throwing open the door of the cafe and dumping a bagful of deadly weapons in front of him.

“Delivery for Kurusu-san,” she said promptly, with a hint of a smile as she sat down in the chair next to him.

Akira laughed. “Hey, Makoto. Sorry I asked you to do all of this..” he apologized as he opened the bag. “I hope it wasn’t  _ too _ much trouble.”

Makoto shook her head. “Not at all! The owner seemed to understand when I told him I was a friend of yours, just like you said, which begs the question…” Makoto narrowed her eyes. “Does he  _ know?” _

Shit. “Uh… kind of…?” Akira replied, focusing on withdrawing the various weapons and protective gear from the bag. “...It was an accident.” he said sheepishly.

“Does this ‘accident’ have anything to do with the yakuza boss we changed the heart of not three weeks ago?” Makoto was using her ‘leader’ voice, which Akira had never been the target of before. It was... certainly intimidating.

Akira finally looked over at her. “Damn, you’re very quick,” he said, not bothering to keep the admiration out of his voice.

Makoto smiled simply. “I try to be. Don’t worry, I’m not mad. He seems upstanding, and honestly, if there was anyone who  _ would _ end up finding out soon enough, it’s probably him.”

Akira laughed as he examined a rifle for Yusuke.  _ MR… good choice, _ Akira subconsciously complimented Makoto on her eyes for gun customization. “And Boss, but we all knew that already. It’s only a matter of time,” he added. Considering both Sojiro’s daughter and temporary son were Phantom Thieves, it was basically inevitable that he was going to find out at some point. Akira figured he should find some way to tell him straight up… but not right now.

Makoto leaned back in her seat slightly. “True.” Then she looked around the room, as if realizing something. “Where…  _ is _ Boss, actually? Isn’t the café open?” she asked.

Akira pulled out the last weapon, a covert knife for himself, and started gathering them up to lay out upstairs. “Nah, not today. He’s out and about, for once. Told me he was finally gonna start trying to talk to more people his age.”

Makoto nodded approvingly. “Well, good for him. Maybe all us kids have finally driven him up the wall,” she joked.

Akira laughed out loud as he went upstairs to drop off their various dubiously-legal acquisitions. “He’d be surprised now, then. I think this is the most late we’ve all been, which is kind of saying a lot,” Akira said, coming back downstairs and noting that no one else had entered still.

Makoto glanced at the door. “...I don’t really mind it, though,” she remarked. “A bit of peace before a mission is hardly a bad thing.”

Akira sighed, coming behind the counter. “I feel that.” He’d been trying to keep his mind off of what they were gearing up to do, but that was basically impossible. He was so anxious about everything, wondering if what he did would work, hoping he could keep his feelings under control, and of course, worrying about the Palace itself almost killing them like last time.

“Should we have a strategy meeting ourselves while we wait?” Makoto asked.

Akira blinked. “Huh?”

Makoto pushed some stray hair away from her face. “You know… since we’re both the strategists, maybe it would be wise to… put our heads together? So to speak,” she said.

Akira paused for a moment. She had never asked about this before…  _ Ooohhhhh.  _ His brain finally clicked, and one look at her face told him that he was right. This was a way to occupy his thoughts until the time came, to keep his mind from wandering. He nodded in silent thanks.

“Of course.”

Makoto smiled. “Great, I actually have been thinking about possible compositions for the team,” she began.

“Want some coffee?” Akira asked, already getting the grinder ready.

“Please.”

* * *

The moon was as bright as ever in the Palace, and the HQ building was still lit up with the dozens of neon signs and ticker displays that it had been the first time they had arrived. The main difference was that there wasn’t a massive roaring crowd by the front doors, and many were instead milling around the sidewalk and staring at their phones. 

_ They probably visit the Phan-Site religiously,  _ Akira thought to himself with a mild tinge of disgust. Then he immediately felt bad for thinking about Mishima like that.

Morgana had climbed a telephone pole to survey the area, with Ann anxiously standing directly below him. None of the phone-holding cognitions even seemed to notice. Morgana, holding onto the top of the pole like some kind of monkey, shook his head in disgust, then leapt down in the blink of an eye, landing with a quiet  _ thump _ right next to Ann, who flinched in worry.

“What did you see, Mona?” Akira asked.

Morgana frowned. “No good. That other Skull’s posted at the front door, and he doesn’t look like he’d be very pleased to see us again.” He glanced at Ryuji, obviously waiting for his reaction.

“Mishima-kun probably wants to avoid big fan gatherings like last time for a while, because that’s what let us sneak in so easily…” Makoto said to herself. Her hand was on her chin, and she looked absorbed in thought. Then she picked her head up. “Skull, you can… handle this, can’t you?” They all knew she didn’t mean it in the fighting way.

Ryuji kicked the ground restlessly. “Sure I can,” he mumbled. “Not like I can do much fightin’ anyways, even if I wanted to…” Everyone, including Ryuji himself (reluctantly), had agreed to keep him out of fights for this infiltration, because he was way too beat up to sustain more than a few injuries before being knocked out… or worse. He had adamantly refused the idea of staying behind in the real world, though, so here he was. Akira felt bad for him, but it really was for his own safety. Besides, he deserved a break after all that saving them he did last time.

Futaba scampered over to him, leaning on his arm and looking up at him. “Aw, come on, Skull! You’ll be hanging out with me in Necronomicon!” 

A tired grin crept onto Ryuji’s face. “Heh… Yeah, you’re right… ‘Thing kinda creeps me out, but…”

Futaba beamed. “And if you’re  _ really  _ good, I’ll let you press the button to drop the bombs!”

_ Now  _ Ryuji looked interested. “Wait, your Persona can drop  _ bombs!?” _

Futaba grinned devilishly. “This old girl has a lot of secret functions… most of which  _ I _ don’t even know about,” she admitted.

Ryuji’s eyes were wide. “For real…?”

Akira laughed and held up his hands for silence. “Okay guys, let’s focus a little here.”

Ryuji stopped talking instantly.

“What’s the plan, Joker?” Yusuke looked even more ready to roll than usual. He was sheathing and unsheathing his new katana, and admiring the Metaverse cityscape with a sweeping gaze.

Akira pulled his glove on tighter. “Even if the cognitive Skull is at the door, that shouldn’t change our entrance point… hopefully,” he added. “Our first goal is to head back to that room with all the paper airplanes. If any place is hiding a way up that isn’t via the front elevator, it’s there.”

Everyone nodded. Futaba and Ryuji started whispering to each other in the back. Makoto and Akira shared a look that basically said  _ Are you gonna give the order, or should I? _ Akira decided he should do it this time.

“Phantom Thieves, let’s move out!” he called.

* * *

The entrance hall window was still unguarded, and Akira wanted to be the last one in, so he quietly helped everyone else squeeze through the demanding space and drop into the hall. When Akira had zoomed over here on his grappling hook, he had noticed that the doors were security deadlocked, just like they had been when they left the Palace last time, so the cognitive Ryuji probably couldn’t hear anything from inside.

_ Fortunately, they neglect the windows once again, _ Akira thought to himself with relief as he boosted Futaba through.

Haru was last in line, and Akira made a show of bowing for her. “After you, my lady,” he said elegantly.

Haru giggled. “Thank you, but I was wondering if I could spare a moment of your time first?” she asked.

Akira immediately closed the window and looked over at Haru. “We’re in a hostile fanatic base and could get found by security at any moment, what better time is there?” he joked.

Haru laughed nervously. “Please don’t say that. Um… anyways, what I wanted to ask was… is this how it was like the first few times?” Her wide eyes shone in the moonlight, even behind her mask.

Akira knelt down on the grass, and Haru squatted to meet his level. “What do you mean?” In the back of his mind, Joker told himself that they were taking a major risk by having a talk here, of all places, but Akira always had time for Haru.

Haru looked embarrassed. “Um… Well… Was it… personal like this before?” 

Akira realized what she meant.  _ Of course… _ Haru had joined the team when they were at their most prideful point, when they were only barely upholding their sense of justice and were choosing targets who were the most publicly requested, not targets who they had a personal motive and drive to pursue. True, they had saved Haru in the process, but still…

“...Yes,” Akira realized. “This is almost exactly how our very first heist played out, Noir.”

Haru looked extremely interested. “Really? That’s amazing… I’m sorry I never knew Mishima-kun very well personally, but it is a bit exciting to be taking part in such an important mission!”

Akira smiled at her. “...You know? You’re right.” When Akira looked at this mission as a return to form for the Phantom Thieves instead of a horrible personal quest, it did feel a lot better.

Haru looked thoughtful. “Does this mean we’re sort of creating the group a second time? What an honor that would be!”

Akira had to stop himself from laughing out loud and drawing even more attention to their secluded spot. “Oh man, now I’m imagining suggesting changing our name to ‘Phantom Thieves 2.0’ to everyone else.” He shuffled his coat tails so that they weren’t dragging in the mud quite as much.

Haru adjusted her hat and laughed, far more quietly than Akira would have. “I bet Skull would be all for it,” she remarked.

Akira got to his feet, extending a hand to help Haru up. “You know, he probably would,” he agreed. “Let’s wait on that for now, though, okay?”

Haru smiled while taking his hand. “Of course. It can be our little secret,” she teased, and with a wink, hopped through the window herself.

Akira took an extra moment to scan for any guards, while also grinning to himself about how fun that conversation had been. He wanted to thank Haru, but that would take a lot of explaining, and besides, they had a heart to steal.

Akira’s own heart sank a little bit as he thought that, but he lifted it back up by reminding himself that this was just like Kamoshida, this was the best way for the thieves to reclaim what it meant to  _ be _ thieves in the first place.

_ God, _ Akira thought to himself as he opened the window.  _ That’s the last time I compare something to Kamoshida in a positive way. _

Akira tumbled through the window and landed on his ass, right in front of Ann. “Oof…” he muttered. “Hey, Panther.”

Ann glared at him. “Hey, yourself! What took you and Noir so long? I was about to come back out after you myself!”

Akira stood up, rubbing his backside. “Sorry…” 

Ann’s scowl immediately turned into a smile. “It’s okay! I’m messing with you a  _ little _ bit.”

Akira blushed. “Oh…”

He looked around. The entrance hall hadn’t changed at all, and the elevator was still sitting at the top of the grand staircase a stone’s throw away. Seeing these same halls reminded him of the desperate standoff that occurred here, and also… 

“Hey guys?” Akira called. The rest of the team had already advanced and were peeking around the corners of the hall, but turned when Akira addressed them.

“What’s up?” Futaba asked.

Akira felt silly mentioning something he had absolutely no backing for, but he couldn’t help it. “If you, uh… see the cognitive version of me anywhere, even just a glimpse of him,  _ please _ tell me, and under no circumstances are you to engage with him,” he ordered. He didn’t give orders often, but this time he really felt like he needed to make this clear.

Everyone looked mildly puzzled. “Okay, but… why so urgent?” Ann asked.

Akira rubbed his temples and sighed. “I… don’t know. It’s just a... feeling I have,” he muttered, remembering the uncanny spine chill the cognitive Akira gave him every time he appeared.

“No need to explain,” Yusuke said sympathetically. “It’s perfectly natural to feel intimidated by someone who is much more charismatically and aesthetically gifted than oneself.” 

Akira paused. “...What is that supposed to m-”

“We’ll be careful, Joker,” Makoto said quickly.

Ryuji gave Yusuke a side eye. “Weird way of saying he’s hotter, Fox, but-”

Akira thrust his hands out in a “for the love of god stop” gesture.  _ “Can we PLEASE not do this again,”  _ he begged, already feeling his face getting warm.

Ann snickered. “Sure thing, Joker.”

Akira didn’t feel like his warning had been taken very seriously, but he waved the team forward anyways. “Come on. We’re burning daylight…. or moonlight, I guess.”

They retraced their steps from previously, Akira at the lead. They didn’t run into any wayward fans this time, nor any guard shadows, which worried Akira a little bit, but he wasn’t exactly complaining.

When they reentered the convention hall, Akira noticed that this time, the curtains were drawn, and there was a lone Shadow in a Phantom Thieves mask mopping the stage. He ducked behind a row of chairs, and the rest of the team quickly followed, peeking over the top.

“Must be preparin’ for some kinda show,” Ryuji noted with a scowl.

“I kinda don’t wanna be here when that happens,” Ann said.

“Me either,” Akira agreed, scanning his eyes around the room to check for more Shadows. He didn’t see any, but that didn’t mean they weren’t around. They had a worrying (and often unfair) habit of just kind of popping up out of the ground. “Let’s move quietly,” he told the team. 

They stole down the aisle as low as they could, and they reached the steps of the stage without incident. Now they were staring right up at the cleaning Shadow, who seemed to be too absorbed in whistling a familiar tune to notice them.

“Should we attack?” Makoto asked. Her muscles were already tensed, as if waiting for him to say ‘yes.’

“Yes,” Akira said. “We should-”

Before Akira could even finish, Makoto darted forward and lept onto the Shadow’s back, ripping off its mask, mimicking the way Akira always did it.

The Shadow howled in surprise, and quickly melted into a pile of goo, spawning two demons that Akira had never seen before. Everyone was wide eyed, and Akira too was surprised at Makoto’s aggressiveness, but he composed himself and waved them forward. “Go go go! Help her out!” he cried.

The team snapped into action, Ann and Yusuke falling in line behind Akira as they went to back up Makoto. Ryuji and Futaba quickly disappeared, hovering overhead in Futaba’s UFO, and Haru and Morgana lay waiting on the stairs, ready to fill in or follow up at a moment’s notice.

It was all a bit of overkill, though, as the two demons were no match for a combined assault from four adept Persona users. In less than a minute, the last demon was on its knees, at the mercy of four adept Persona users with guns.

“Wait… I don’t wanna die yet…” it pleaded weakly, Akira stepped forward, still keeping his gun up. The demon had fairy-like wings, strange eye-like growths all over its body, and an irregularly shaped purple horn on its head.  _ Could be useful for fusions, _ Akira thought to himself.

“All right, then prove it,” Akira commanded. “Join my cause, and we’ll be good friends.” He poured some of the speaking power that Yoshida had taught him into his voice. When he used these techniques, Shadows rarely refused his offer.

The purple-headed demon looked thoughtful. “You’ve got a real way with words, sonny…” it mused. “Though… what even is your cause, anyhow? I bet I’ll be of more use here than with you, to tell the truth…”

Akira frowned. This wasn’t how it usually went. “But… I’ll treat you good, I promise,” he ventured. “You’ll be well taken care of, for certain.” Behind him, Akira could sense the others raise their guns.

The demon waved his clawed hands in a ‘hold on’ gesture. “The Admin here treats me real good already, sonny. Sorry, but I’m gonna have to decline.”

“Wait, I-”

The demon got back up and started fluttering its wings. “Nothing personal, sonny! Bye now!” Before Akira’s teammates could even begin to open fire, the demon had zipped off at lightning speed, leaving only a mop and bucket on the floor where the Shadow had been.

The other fighters holstered their guns as the backup members came forward, and Ryuji and Futaba dropped down seemingly out of nowhere. Akira still stared at the spot where the demon used to be. 

“That was… worrying,” Haru said at last.

“Yeah, I’ve never seen anyone resist your charms like that before, Joker,” Ann teased, but her eyes were serious.

Akira decided to ignore the jab at his supposed charisma and keep going. “I’ve never seen such… loyal Shadows before,” he remarked.

Makoto was reloading her revolver. “Still, we got that Shadow off of our checklist, at least.”

Akira turned to her. “That reminds me…” he started, and Makoto immediately looked embarrassed. “That’s  _ my _ thing, what you did there,” he said. He didn’t mean to sound accusing, but he had liked feeling cool when ambushing Shadows like that, and so did Joker. It was one of the few things they could both agree on.

“...I’m sorry.” Makoto wasn’t looking him in the eyes. “I was reckless, maybe you wanted different tactics, or to reconsider, or-”

Akira put a hand on her shoulder, taking care to avoid the spikes on her outfit. “Hey, it’s all right! Just… warn me next time, okay? Maybe we can try a synchronized takedown next time.” He grinned at her.

Makoto looked interested. “You think?”

“Whooaaa, that sounds awesome!” Futaba crowed. “You guys should  _ totally _ try that!”

“It’d be just like a co-op stealth game!” Akira raised his eyebrows at Ryuji’s words. 

“Futaba might be rubbing off on you,” he cracked.

Ryuji was about to retort when a loud  _ BANG _ from backstage interrupted everything. Everyone quickly rushed over to find Haru and Yusuke standing in front of the heavy iron door to the paper airplane room.

“One… two… three!” Yusuke called out. On ‘three,’ Haru swung the butt of her axe into the door, creating another ear-shattering  _ BANG! _

“Hold it, hold it!” Akira cried.  _ “What _ are you two  _ doing?” _

Yusuke looked over at him. “Oh, hello, Joker. The door is locked,” he said, as if that explained everything they were doing perfectly well.

Futaba groaned. “Of  _ course _ it is.”

Haru wound up for another go at the door, but Akira grabbed the handle of her axe to stop her. “Let’s, uh… be a little more quiet, okay?”

Haru blinked. “Oh… I guess this is quite loud, yes… My apologies.”

Akira bent down to examine the lock. Fortunately, he saw what he was hoping for. He snapped his fingers. “Panther, this lock’s made of metal,” he called.

Ann quickly ran forward. “Ooh, thank you, Joker! My pleasure!” She ripped off her mask and called Hecate to her. “Uh, stand back though,” she warned.

She didn’t need to tell any of them twice. The entire team had already given her a wide berth, backing up almost to the edge of the stage. 

Once Ann was satisfied that everyone was safe, she turned up the heat, literally. Hecate poured out a concentrated, white-hot beam of fire onto the lock while Ann herself held it steady. Akira could feel the waves of heat coming off of her even from all the way back where he was. Fortunately for Ann, she had become completely immune to fire after her Persona evolved, which made Akira a bit jealous. After about a minute, the lock had melted enough to be pulled free, and the lock handle dropped away from the door, leaving it usable once again. Ann returned Hecate to her mask, and turned away, an excited smile on her face, along with several scorch marks. She looked… hot, to put it bluntly. No pun intended.

Ann tried to wipe the marks off of her face. “Whew! That does it! C’mon back, guys!”

Everyone seemed mildly on edge while returning to the door.

“You… are one  _ scary _ woman,” Ryuji said in awe.

Ann beamed at him. “Thank you!” She held out the lump of mind-blowingly hot metal goo in her hands. “Yusuke, would you mind cooling this off for me?” 

Yusuke flinched. He didn’t exactly do well with fire. “Why, uh, of course, Panther,” he said cautiously. He carefully removed his mask and brought Goemon to his side, spraying an icy mist onto Ann’s outstretched hands, cooling the superheated metal of the lock enough to harden into an unrecognizable, misshapen blob of iron. Yusuke picked it up out of her hands and studied it, all apprehension gone. “This makes a fine sculpture,” he said, examining every crag and rut in the thing’s surface, before putting it into his pocket.

Ann laughed as she shook off her hands.  _ “Wow _ that is cold,” she remarked. She didn’t do very well with ice either.

Akira grabbed the door handle. “Thanks, Panther. And Yusuke, of course.”

Without any more waiting, he pushed open the obscenely heavy door, which made a scraping sound along the ground. “Now let’s get out of here before anyone finds out we turned their lock into Yusuke’s latest victim.”

Everyone laughed, except Yusuke, but Futaba looked puzzled as they reentered the room, which was still filled with a cacophony of paper airplanes. “Uh… get out of here how? I already told you, Joker, there’s no exits anywhere on this floor except the elevator. Unless you have some sort of-”

“There.” Akira pointed upwards. Right above the doorway they had entered through was another door, about thirty feet up. There wasn’t any kind of landing or ladder, so anyone who walked through that door without looking would simply fall and probably break a leg.

Futaba raised her eyebrows. “Wow. Okay. That’s some asshole design right there.”

Akira nodded. “Asshole design that’s also our way up,” he quipped as he aimed his grappling hook at the gap between the door and the floor… or wall, he supposed. 

“Look, the moon!” came Yusuke’s voice from Akira’s left.

Akira furrowed his brow, and put his arm down. “...The moon?” he said quizzically. Akira was under the impression that the room they were in was completely closed off, aside from the top, which went up who knew how far.

He looked over at Yusuke, who was bent over and staring at the wall. Akira was dearly hoping that Yusuke hadn’t finally gone off the deep end until he came closer and realized that Yusuke wasn’t staring at the wall, but rather he was looking through a small slot embedded in the wall.

“That’s odd,” Haru noted. “Fox, what can you see  _ besides _ the moon?”

Yusuke seemed disgusted at the idea of admiring anything else, but he humored them. “I can see… plenty of humans, all of whom are holding paper airplanes. It seems they are waiting for something.”

_ Paper airplanes. _ Akira had an idea. “Fox, open that slot all the way and step back for a minute,” he ordered.

Yusuke sighed, but he did as he was asked. Immediately, before Yusuke could even move backwards, a veritable avalanche of paper airplanes poured through the slot, a seemingly physically impossible amount for such a small opening. Akira could hear the muffled cheers and shouts of the crowd outside, saying things like “Move over!” “You already had your turn!” or “Mine is  _ super _ important!”

The moment the airplanes hit the ground, they took flight, some soaring up and up and vanishing almost immediately, others hovering around the Phantom Thieves’ head level, and some, the more shoddy and half-folded ones, simply struggled on the ground, only lifting off a couple of inches before sinking back down.

The entire team, including Akira, had been transfixed by the wondrous sight of all these planes taking flight on their own, but Akira realized what the planes actually were, and reached out and snatched one right out of the air.

He tried to study it, but the stream of new planes that were zooming in every direction were crossing his vision and making it impossible to concentrate. “Fox, close the slot, please.”

Yusuke tentatively edged forward and pushed the slot closed with his katana like he was afraid the crowd outside would grab him if he got too close. A final few squashed planes squeezed through the tiny gap before Yusuke could close it all the way. Akira could hear moaning and upset voices from outside, but the planes stopped coming.

“Jesus christ…” Ryuji muttered. “What the fuck was all that about?”

“I have no idea,” Ann said, watching a plane stagger along the ground hopelessly. “Knowing Palaces, it’s probably a metaphor for something, but…”

Akira, meanwhile, was examining the plane he had caught. It was on notebook paper, but it was pretty neatly folded, which made unfolding it intuitive and simple.

“I was right,” Akira said grimly. The team quickly crowded around Akira to look over his shoulder. “These are the Phan-Site requests,” he declared.

“Read it out loud, I can’t see!” complained Futaba, who was jumping up and down to try and look over the top of Akira’s head.

Akira chuckled. “Sure thing. Okay,  _ ahem. _ ‘Dear Yuuki Mishima. Please send your Phantom Thieves to steal the heart of my ex-boyfriend. He won’t take me back no matter what I say to him, and I can’t live without him.’” This was followed by a name, and then a final plea to Mishima personally.

Ann looked outraged.  _ “‘His’ _ Phantom Thieves?” 

“We’d never change the heart of someone for that reason…” Ryuji muttered.

Yusuke pointed over Akira’s shoulder to where the sender had written Mishima’s name. “It only ever mentions him, not us at all.”

Haru shook her head. “They’re asking  _ him _ to  _ send _ us,” she pointed out.

Ryuji gagged. “That’s even worse!” he cried.

Akira grimaced. He knew it was something like this. “He sees the site, and us, as his tools for fame. That’s why his name is the only one the sender is addressing. He views himself as our… overseer. They’re all so desperate to get their request to him that he must not answer very many, much less accept them.”

Ryuji scowled. “Well, that blows,” he growled. 

Makoto picked up a shoddily constructed plane from the ground and unfolded it. “This one just says ‘please please please please please,’” she read. “That’s… concerning,” she commented, dropping it back to the ground.

“I mean… we already suspected this,” Morgana interjected, glancing at Akira. “But… Now we have undeniable proof, I suppose.”

Akira crumpled up the request and tossed it to the ground. “Yeah, well… let’s get a move on,” he said quietly.

Ann tilted her head. “Move on? Where are we going now?”

Akira held up his arm and launched the grappling hook. “Hold on,” he warned. 

Six pairs of arms wrapped around his waist, and one cat latched onto his head, as Akira sped off toward the mystery door above them. Though, to be fair, “sped” might have been a bit generous, considering he was carrying seven people and one cat along with him.

When they reached their destination, Akira smashed into the wall below the door, and the team slowly slid down, their combined weight a little too much for the hook to handle at this point. Akira’s wrist felt like it was going to pop off with how much weight was centered around it. He braced his feet against the wall to take the pressure off as best he could.

Ryuji’s face was mashed between the wall and Akira’s chest. “Now… what… genius?” he mumbled as best he could.

Akira looked up at the door. He really should have thought this through more. “Uh… give me a second…”

“Oh, no problem!” Ann said in her fake-cheerful voice, dripping with sarcasm. She was clinging to Akira’s left arm and trying not to look down. “Take all the time you-  _ oof-  _ need, Joker!”

“Mona, can you, uh… open that door for us?” he asked. 

“All you had to do was ask,” Morgana smirked, and promptly leaped off of the mass of thieves, using Akira’s head as a launchpad. He slammed right into the door, which triggered the motion sensor, causing the door to hiss open. Morgana scrambled up onto the landing behind the door and looked down at the rest of them with worry. “Go, climb!” he yelled.

Akira activated his hook again, and with a tired  _ grooaaaan, _ it slowly pulled them all upwards and within arm’s reach of the door. It took some work, but soon enough the entire team hauled themselves up and onto the second floor. Akira assessed the situation and kicked himself. He really needed to spend more than five seconds thinking before he fired that thing off again.

Futaba was pointing at him. “Uh… Joker, you have… a tail?”

Thoroughly confused, Akira looked down and saw that his grappling hook was still hanging from his wrist, and was dragging on the floor. He pressed the button to wind it back in, but all it could muster was a little jerk.

Akira cursed, and started coiling the cable up by hand. Morgana looked concerned. “Oh no… is it broken?”

Akira, having finished winding up the grappling hook, took it off his wrist and stuffed it into his coat pocket. “Yep. Guess I should be more careful with how much weight I use this thing for from now on.” He shook his head. Joker, the leader of the Phantom Thieves… broke his own equipment. Graceful. Though, this was where his reckless desire to seem cool was inevitably going to get him at some point. Akira was just glad the hook had broken before his neck had. 

“You can fix it, right?” Ann asked. She was at the head of the team, standing at the door out of the room they had just collapsed into.

“Yeah, probably… I’ll need some tools, though, so I’ll have to do it at the work desk back home,” he announced.

Makoto looked worried. “Should we pull out early so you can fix it?”

Akira frowned. “Well… It’s not like it’s  _ super _ important, and, well, we… don’t really have a way down anymore at this point,” he realized.

Everyone froze.

“But it’s okay!” Akira said quickly. “We just need to find the elevator on this floor, figure out if it allows anyone to access it from this point, and go back down that way!”

Everyone exhaled, obviously relieved.

“Besides,” Yusuke said, advancing further ahead. “We have made barely any progress, and I myself am curious to see what lies beyond what we’ve already explored.”

Futaba scratched her head, looking around the room. “What  _ is _ this place, anyways?” she asked.

Akira wondered that too. The room they were in was almost small enough to be a closet, and the door that connected directly to the vertical shaft behind them still confused him. 

“Hey, what are these?” Ryuji was behind him, pointing to a rack of various implements, all of which were absolutely bizarre to look at. Among other things, there was a giant fan, an oversized pair of scissors, and a very long, unlit torch.

Ryuji picked up the torch, and it immediately lit up. Akira jumped back instantly, and Ryuji’s eyes went wide with fear, leaning back as far from his own arms as he could. “A-Am I gonna die?” he stammered.

Ann was the first to compose herself. “No, Skull, it’s just a torch. I bet it’s for burning the paper airplane messages as they pass by. It’ll probably shut off if you put it down.”

Ryuji set down the torch more delicately than Akira had ever seen him be in his entire life, and the second his hand lifted off of it, the fire extinguished itself. 

“Whoa.” Futaba whistled. “Magic torch.”

Haru had moved over to where Ryuji was, and was examining the various instruments. “These scissors, too… they’re probably for cutting the requests up, considering the room we’re right next to…”

Morgana was looking up at the fan, which was almost twice as large as he was. “And this fan… probably blows them away?” he asked.

Akira nodded in understanding. “This is how ‘the site’ deletes spam and other unwanted requests,” he said, using air quotes to make his point clear. 

Everyone paused to consider that. It certainly made sense, but how… violent it was sort of surprised Akira.  _ Is this fun for him? _ Akira asked himself.

“A-Anyways,” Morgana said. “We should keep moving. I dunno if there are usually Shadows stationed here or what, but I don’t want to stick around and find out.”

That seemed like a solid idea. Akira edged open the door of the room they were in and the group quietly filed out. A plate by the outside door read:  **“Spam Filtration”** Below the plate was a small table with a stack of old-fashioned punch cards and a stamp, presumably for shifts at the station.

Futaba stifled a laugh. “As an internet nerd, this is  _ really _ funny to me,” she giggled.

Akira held up a hand for silence. The hall they had emerged into was not  _ as _ gaudy as the entrance hall, but that wasn’t saying much. It was much… cleaner, with white walls and red carpet, with some golden accents on both. The design reminded Akira of some of the more modern buildings he had visited in Tokyo. On their right was the elevator (or at least Akira certainly  _ hoped _ it was the same elevator), and at the other end of the hallway was a large doorway that turned away from view.

“This reminds me of one of my…  _ least _ favorite art museums,” Yusuke remarked disdainfully.

With a  _ ding! _ the elevator doors right next to Akira slid open, and he had a brief second of total panic before he realized there was nobody inside. 

“Ta-da!” Futaba cried proudly. “Our escape route awaits!”

“Ooh, maybe this’ll take us further up, too,” Ryuji grinned.

Everyone piled into the elevator to investigate. There were plenty of buttons, but all of them except the one they were on and the ground floor were unlit. A key slot was below all the buttons, accompanied with a number pad.

“Let me guess,” Ann groaned. “We have to find the key and/or the code to go higher up?”

“That seems the most likely,” Akira admitted. “We can leave any time we want now, at least…”

Everyone exited the elevator as quickly as they had entered it, and Futaba sent it back down again to avoid suspicion.

“We should probably keep going for now, though.” Makoto said. “We could find the access keys or maybe even stairs going up in here. Oracle, can you sense any other exits from this floor?”

Futaba’s eyebrows creased the way they did when she was concentrating really hard. “I dunno… something’s messing with my systems… I can do basic stuff like map where we’ve been just fine, but the sensors are all out of whack...”

“Turn it off,” Akira said sharply. “Whatever Mishima’s anti-hacking software is, I do not want to find out how it would manifest in the Metaverse.”

Futaba immediately shut off her display. “Oops, you’re right. Sorry.” She looked embarrassed.

Ryuji patted her shoulder. “Don’t feel bad, Oracle! You can still help them out with your buffs and shit!” he said cheerfully.

Futaba almost laughed, but her face was still grim. “We might need my ‘buffs and shit’ soon enough… Before you made me shut off my tools, I picked up mixed signs of very powerful beings further in... multiple of them.”

Everyone looked uncomfortable. “Shadows?” Haru asked, fingering her axe.

“I’m… not sure,” Futaba said. A brief memory of the cognitive Akira sent a chill down Akira’s spine, but he brushed it off as fast as he could.

Akira clapped his hands, trying to hide the unease he felt. “Well! Let’s get going and see what they are, shall we?” he said brightly, striding off down the hall in the direction of the doorway he had seen earlier.

“You’re so chill, man…” he heard Ryuji say as the rest of the team gathered up their stuff and got ready to follow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> surprise! you lovely folks get a double upload this week! this chapter got way, WAY longer than I thought it was going to be, so I figured I should split it up. and since there's really no sense in hoarding Content until "the chapter" in my head is done, you get the first two thirds of what I was planning! I hope you enjoy!


	11. Chapter 11

Everyone stopped dead in the doorway once they saw the painting.

It was pretty hard to miss, being almost big enough to cover the entire floor of Akira’s classroom at Shujin, and it was put up right in front of the doorway, where you’d _have_ to look at it if you wanted to move past.

This was a problem for Akira, because the painting in question was an enormous portrait of himself. He was looking at the ‘camera’, so to speak, with playful eyes, a mischievous smirk, and was in the middle of twirling his dagger with one hand. He was wearing his Joker outfit, with the coattails flowing magnificently behind him.

It reminded him of the grotesque portrait of Kamoshida in the lobby of his castle (god, why was he making so many comparisons to _that_ man lately?), but far less disgusting to look at. It was equally… sensual, though. The only reason Akira could tell it was the cognitive Akira and not himself was the gold seams on his coat. _Was that why that fan had called his costume a fake…?_ Akira wondered. In addition to the costume, this Akira’s features were absolute perfection. His wild hair wasn’t tangled or stringy like it sometimes got with Akira, and the Akira in the painting had visible muscles that Akira himself could only dream of. The moon shone behind him, illuminating his face with an almost unearthly shine.

“It’s, um… very flattering,” Makoto said.

Futaba held up a hand. “Listen, I know you told us not to talk about it, but like-”

“Please don’t.” Akira was covering his face with both hands, unbelievably embarrassed that _this_ was on full display.

Someone patted his shoulder. “Hey man, it’s not _you,_ right?” Akira looked up to see Ryuji looking at him with a tired smile. Akira nodded slowly.

“Yeah, sure…” he said. “...Almost wish it was, though,” he admitted.

Ryuji frowned. “Hey man, that’s not…” he stopped when he saw Akira’s face. “...We can talk about that later, okay?”

Akira kicked himself for letting that slip. “Okay…” he muttered.

He looked back at the painting to find Yusuke had moved forward and was now studying it very intently. 

_“I think he might be interested in more than just the technique,”_ Akira heard Futaba whisper to Ann, who giggled.

“This is new,” Yusuke said suddenly.

Akira felt like his heart had just been dipped in ice. “...What?” 

Yusuke turned back to face the group. “There’s no mistaking it. This paint dried very recently, almost like it was painted only a day or two ago.”

Akira suddenly remembered his date with Mishima, which was… only a day ago. _Hm. That’s probably not good,_ he thought to himself. On the outside, however, he stayed perfectly calm.

“Oh, uh… huh, I wonder why that is…”

Perfectly calm.

Makoto raised an eyebrow at him. “I wonder…” Akira suddenly regretted not managing his time better so he could have bought new supplies himself. 

Akira could feel sweat staining his palms. He hated that, it always made his gloves feel super gross. “Can we, uh, talk about it later, please? We could get found if we hang around here,” he said quickly.

Makoto raised the other eyebrow. “Sure thing.” She sounded skeptical, but she turned away. “Shall we go, then?”

Akira was both relieved that Makoto had dropped the subject for the time being and that he didn’t have to look at the portrait anymore. He hurried to follow her, so quickly that he ended up going ahead of her. 

Moving around the wall with the painting on it, they found another hallway with another set of doors at the end of it.

“This is reminding me way too much of that cursed place…” Yusuke muttered.

Akira tilted his head. “What place?”

Yusuke just seemed to notice Akira was there. “Oh, my least favorite art museum that I had mentioned.”

Akira nodded solemnly. “Ah… yeah, Madarame’s palace was truly terrible.”

Yusuke’s eyes widened, and then he grimaced. “...My _second_ least favorite art museum, then,” he said, pursing his lips. 

Akira got the impression he had messed up. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s all right, I think I could have used a reminder anyhow,” Yusuke said graciously, tilting his head in a short bow.

Akira still felt bad, but at that point they had reached the doors, and after a moment’s hesitation, Akira opened them, holding them open for the team to pass through. “After you, friends,” he said smoothly.

As Akira followed then in, closing the door behind him, he almost ran into Haru, who had stopped dead behind the other thieves the moment they had entered. One look and Akira understood why. Two Shadows in purple suits were standing at a desk right in front of them. One of the Shadows was typing on a computer, while the other was doing a crossword puzzle, tapping its pen against the desk as if deep in thought. Out of the corner of his eye, Akira could see a few incredibly garish and uncomfortable looking chairs, but he barely paid any attention.

The Shadow at the computer looked up when he heard their arrival, then nudged the other one, who grumpily set down its crossword puzzle. It sighed, then straightened in its seat, adjusting its tie. 

“Welcome to Yuuki Mishima’s Phantom Thieves Gallery,” it said in an incredibly bored voice. “Please come forward so we can sign you in.” It then immediately picked up the crossword puzzle again and paid no more attention. 

The thieves exchanged nervous glances, but since they hadn’t been attacked on sight, they cautiously edged forward.

The Shadow at the computer counted them with its finger, then typed something into its computer. “There, you’re all set,” it said in a considerably more chipper voice than its colleague. “Go on in, I think the _master artist_ is at work right now, you might get to meet him, yes!” If the Shadow had eyes, Akira was pretty sure they would have lit up with excitement.

Yusuke’s eyes _did_ light up with excitement. “Master artist?” he echoed. The Shadow nodded.

“Yes, yes! How exciting, yes!” It pointed to a door behind and to the left of the front desk. “Go in, go in!”

The team glanced at each other again, but since it would be incredibly strange to the Shadows if they left after coming all the way in here, they didn’t have too much choice. Besides, Akira thought, Yusuke might be interested in this master artist.

As they filed through the door, Akira glanced back at the computer Shadow, who looked thoughtful.

“You know,” it said. “I was under the impression that no fans were allowed in today… something about a security breach? But, if you’re allowed up here, then you must be A-ok, yes!”

Akira tried not to look nervous. “Yep! A-ok, that’s us!”

The Shadow laughed. “Great cosplays, by the way! Though, you did get some of the colors wrong.”

“...Thanks!” Akira edged away from the desk, and was about to dash into the gallery, but the Shadow with the crossword puzzle spoke to him first. 

“Hey, do you know a seven-letter word for ‘perfect?’” it asked. 

Akira thought for a moment. “Hm… is it ‘Mishima?’” he tried, only half-joking. 

The Shadow pumped its fist in triumph. “Yes! Thank you, bad cosplay boy!”

 _...‘Perfect’ already has seven letters,_ Akira thought to himself, before darting into the gallery with his team. 

The room he had entered was a bit smaller than Akira had expected, and quite narrow. A handful of paintings were hung up on the right wall, with some strange curtains parted around all of them. Akira wasn’t looking at the paintings though, he was looking to the back of the room, where there was another door, but more importantly, to the right of that door, the room extended a little bit to form a bay window that looked out onto the moonlit, red skyline. A single lamp hung from the ceiling of the alcove that illuminated an easel with a canvas propped up on it, being painted by… Yusuke. 

No, wait, _that_ was Yusuke standing in front of the easel… right? Akira could obviously figure out that one was a cognitive duplicate, but it was a little harder to figure out which was which than it was with the Ryuji and Futaba, because it wasn’t entirely out of the question for Yusuke to get carried away when presented with such a space as this. Akira cautiously stepped closer, and one of the Yusukes, the one in front of the easel, edged over to him.

Because of his apparent familiarity with Akira, Akira assumed that this Yusuke was indeed the real one, and was prepared to steady him with words like he did with Ryuji and Futaba before. Yusuke put a hand in front of his mouth and whispered in Akira’s ear.

_“Are my eyes really that dark?”_

Akira had to stifle a laugh. He studied the cognitive’s eyes, which were indeed quite dark around the edges. Yusuke certainly had dark eyes, but this looked like Mishima thought he wore eye shadow or something. He had hair even longer than what Yusuke himself had, so much so that his parted bangs almost completely covered his left eye.

“No, Fox, I can definitely say that,” Akira told him.

The emo Yusuke hadn’t even looked at them, and Akira got the feeling that he hadn’t even realized the group had entered. 

“So, uh… what do we do?” Ryuji asked in his normal voice. Unfortunately, Ryuji’s “normal voice” was pretty much legally recognized as a “shout” to anyone except him.

Emo Yusuke’s eyes flicked up at the sound, and he straightened when he noticed the group. “...Hello,” he said after a short pause. “...Are you guests of our manager?”

Ryuji opened his mouth, but Akira spoke first. “Yep! We sure are!”

The cognitive Yusuke narrowed his eyes, but relaxed quickly. “Very well. Feel free to peruse the art at your leisure,” he said shortly, then returned to his work as if nothing had happened.

Akira looked at the team, then shrugged. “Might as well,” he said quietly, and the group dispersed to look at the art.

Yusuke, however, stayed behind. “...Excuse me,” he ventured. “Are you, perhaps, the ‘master artist’ the front desk mentioned?”

The cognitive Yusuke smirked, which was serious uncanny valley for Akira. Yusuke _never_ smirked. “I am,” he said. “Are you a fan of mine?”

Yusuke glanced at Akira. “...Yes, I am,” he said finally.

The cognitive Yusuke finally set his brush down and gave them his full attention. “Yes, I thought so,” he said. His voice was just as smooth as Akira’s Yusuke, with just a little note of pride left in there. Akira didn’t know how to feel about it. “That’s quite an elaborate cosplay you have there. Not many fans go to such great lengths to imitate me.”

Yusuke smiled graciously. “Indeed, I have always admired your work as a Phantom Thief, but even more so as an artist,” he said, and Akira couldn’t help interpreting it as him complimenting himself indirectly. That was a very Yusuke thing to do.

The cognitive Yusuke looked very pleased. “Of course. Thievery is only second to my true practice. Come and have a look at my newest project,” he offered, stepping to the side of his easel to make room for Yusuke, who obliged. Akira took a moment to admire the surreal image of two Yusukes staring at the same easel, and then left them to it. For the time being, at least, he didn’t think the cognitive Yusuke was going to be any trouble, and Yusuke seemed to be interested in talking to him.

In the meantime, Akira joined the rest of the group who was studying the art, and got a weird feeling in his gut.

“...Is this what they call ‘deja vu?’” he asked Ann, who was standing next to him. She didn’t answer, probably because she was feeling the same way he was. All the paintings were of various scenes from the Phantom Thieves’ history. The one they were looking at featured Akira, Ryuji, and Ann, in their thief outfits, standing up to a demonic Kamoshida, while Mishima cowered in the bottom of the painting. It was… pretty striking to look at, but also horribly depressing. 

“He really did feel powerless, didn’t he…” Ann murmured.

Akira didn’t know what to think about what he was looking at, so he turned back to the Yusukes in the corner. They seemed to be having a pleasant conversation, until Yusuke politely excused himself and came over to Akira’ motioning to whisper in his ear again.

“What is it, Fox?” Akira asked.

Yusuke glanced around him as if to check if anyone was listening.

 _“I do not like him,”_ he said finally.

Akira blinked. “But… you were having such a nice conversation,” he stammered.

Yusuke shook his head. “Just because I don’t _like_ him doesn’t mean I need to be rude to his face. Nonetheless, he is a pompous, pretentious, arrogant blowhard and I can’t stand him,” Yusuke sniffed. “It seems he was the one who designed the theater on the floor below us. I would take back my words of praise, but that’s a cowardly thing to do. Instead I will mock him silently.” 

Akira looked over to make sure the cognitive Yusuke hadn’t heard them, but he was back to working on his painting. Seeing him painting reminded Akira of what they had seen at the entrance to the gallery, and against his better judgement, he cautiously went over to ask.

“Um… Yusuke-san?” he asked.

The cognitive Yusuke flicked his brush and looked over at Akira. “What?”

No going back now. “Did you, uh… paint the portrait at the entrance as well?”

The cognitive Yusuke’s eyes lit up. “Me? Why of course! Our admin’s consort is splendid subject matter, I tried to bring out his eyes. It’s quite striking, no?”

Akira’s brain short-circuited. _“cONSORT?”_ he gagged.

The cognitive Yusuke tilted his head. “Of course. Is that so odd? You seem to be quite a devoted supporter, considering how… mostly accurate your costume is. You were always setting yourself up for failure by attempting to imitate his beauty, but I can see you tried.”

Akira didn’t pay any attention to the fact that the cognitive Yusuke was technically insulting him, he was still reeling from the fact that he had used the word “consort.” He staggered back to Yusuke before he could lose his composure completely.

“Don’t pay any attention,” Yusuke advised. “He loves to throw around exaggerations and flowery language all the time, the insufferable blowhard.”

Akira decided not to say that Yusuke was kind of doing the same thing himself, but he relaxed a little. _Yeah…_ _That’s right… He’s like Yusuke, that’s definitely a word he’d use..._

Regardless, Akira definitely needed to not think about that right now.

Ryuji came over to them and put his arms around either of their shoulders, leaning in between them. “So, what did Emo Yusuke have to say?” he asked.

Yusuke stood up straight. “Absolutely nothing,” he said, a little less quietly, and went over to the painting wall. “Now, let us examine his ‘art,’” he announced, not bothering to hide the venom dripping from the last word. 

Ryuji tilted his head as Yusuke walked away. “What’s up with him?” he asked.

“I’m sure you’ll find out soon enough,” Akira said, before coming over to join the team.

The group huddled around the painting Ann and Akira had been looking at, in a formation which appeared on the outside like they were simply discussing the art, when they were really talking strategy.

“The door on the left is locked,” Makoto announced. “There’s no visible lock, either, so Panther can’t do her… terrifying melting-thing,” she said at last.

Ann sighed in disappointment. “Even if I could, Emo Yusuke would probably notice immediately and attack us,” she pouted.

Haru pointed to the painting. “This has a light above it,” she noticed. “And these strange drapes and other coverings… what are they for?”

Futaba frowned. “I don’t know…” she said uncertainly. “This smells like one of the classic Palace puzzles we’re gonna need to deal with, but I can’t begin to imagine what it would be…”

Ryuji slapped his knee restlessly. “Can’t we just fight him now and get it over with?”

 _“You_ can’t,” Futaba reminded him pointedly. Ryuji’s face fell.

Akira shook his head. “Regardless, I doubt killing, uh, the other Fox would solve anything, and we’d just be stuck with no recourse, there’s no keyhole or anything...”

Morgana was glaring at the painting they were grouped around. “Hey, where’s me?” he complained.

Akira hadn’t even realized Morgana wasn’t in the painting. “Oh… sorry, Mona…” he said. “I guess Mishima didn’t know you had anything to do with saving him from Kamoshida…”

Ann snapped her fingers. “That’s it!” she cried. Then she jumped up and waved her hand. “Oh, Yusuke~” she sang.

Yusuke tilted his head. “You don’t need to call, I’m right beside you,” he said, brow furrowed.

 _“Not you,”_ Ann hissed.

The Yusuke at the easel looked up when he heard his name, then immediately put his brush down once he got a look at Ann. “My lady! You truly do take after our Ann in terms of beauty! What is it you require? Ah, admiring the art, I see? That is one of my favorite works!” he cried from his position. 

Ann looked mildly queasy. Yusuke looked indignant. “Is that how I really sound?” His voice had pitched up, the way it did when he was incredibly affronted by something. The last time Akira had heard his voice do that was when he was looking at Futaba’s supposedly horribly color-coordinated Featherman figures.

“Uh…” Ryuji looked like he was trying not to laugh.

Ann forced a smile for the cognitive Yusuke, choosing to ignore the real one for the moment. “Yes, uh, is there anything about it that’s particularly interesting? Beyond, just, the piece itself, of course.” Akira couldn’t help cringing at her unbearably high acting voice.

“Why yes,” the cognitive Yusuke said, like it was obvious. “That art is meant to be interpreted by the viewer, using those curtains and other instruments to embellish the scene in the image that best represents how our administrator felt about it all. It’s quite ingenious! If you don’t mind me saying so, I would love to p-”

Ann quickly cut off the conversation when she heard where it was heading. “Yes, it is ingenious! Thank you so much!” The instant she returned to the huddle her smile disappeared and she looked extremely tired. “Ugh, I get enough guys like that in public.”

Futaba nodded understandingly. "I get it. He's our hint NPC."

“Is that really how Mishima-kun thinks of him?” Haru asked, looking back over her shoulder at the cognitive Yusuke.

Akira hung his head. “I guess… since Mishima doesn’t know much about him beyond the fact that he’s an artist, and how we distracted him during our infiltration of Madarame’s palace-”

“You TOLD him that?” Ann cried.

Whoops. “Uh… Not the _details,_ but…”

“Well, it seems like this guy here took that story to heart.” Ann’s voice was icy.

“You’re too good for him, Lady Ann,” Morgana said.

Yusuke looked enraged. “I’m _right here,”_ he retorted. Morgana flinched.

“Anyways,” Ryuji said. “So… we gotta use these curtains and shit to make some kind of scene?”

“That sounds difficult…” Makoto said. “It’s hard to know what Mishima-kun was thinking about all of these events…”

Haru pointed to the lightbulb above the painting. “But if we get them right, I bet the door will open!”

Futaba sighed. “Classic Palace BS...” she muttered. “Well, I don’t know much about the guy except for one conversation we had, so I think I can sit out of this.”

Makoto looked apologetic. “Same here, unfortunately… I think Joker is the best person to figure this out. If anyone can do it, he can, he’s by _far_ the closest to Mishima out of all of us.”

Something about the way Makoto said “far” made Akira _sure_ that she knew what he had done instead of buying new weapons, but he decided not to get into that.

“...Alright, let’s do this,” he said, stepping up to the painting and really examining it.

Mishima was definitely terrified of Kamoshida, so the cowering at the bottom made sense for him, as well as the uncomfortably accurate demonic Kamoshida at the top of the piece… those probably didn’t need any changing. 

Then he noticed that the Joker in the painting was standing in the _very_ foreground, even overlapping Ann and Ryuji. That probably meant Mishima thought he was the most important, which could mean…

On a whim, Akira searched the frame of the painting until he found what he had been hoping for: a small switch at the very top. He flicked it on, and an almost unearthly glow streamed down from a tiny light embedded in the frame, completely bordering Akira in a pillar of light, like he was some kind of heaven sent being to save Mishima.

With a _ding!_ the lightbulb above the painting lit up green, and he could hear the cognitive Yusuke’s approving claps at the edge of his hearing.

Ryuji scoffed. “Sheesh. He likes you, we get it,” he muttered. 

Ann nudged him with her elbow. “Skull! Don’t be mean,” she snapped.

Akira was kind of stunned that that had actually worked, but he moved on to the next painting.

“Oh my god…” Ann was almost sobbing, and Akira didn’t blame her. This painting showed none other than Shiho Suzui, standing at the edge of the school roof, looking down at the expanse below her. The windows of the building she was on were filled with anxious people, and at the very edge of the painting, almost like he didn’t want to be noticed, was Mishima, covering his face in horror.

Yusuke pointed to the bottom of the frame. “Look at the way the darkness stretches upwards, like only oblivion awaits her below,” he commented. “It’s… decent work,” he sniffed, like he was trying not to be impressed.

“Don’t _say_ that.” Ann looked like someone had punched her in the face.

Yusuke looked surprised. “I must admit I am loath to compliment _his_ work as well, but credit goes where it’s due,” he whispered.

Ann slapped him. _“It’s not about that,”_ she cried.

Akira didn’t really know what to say, so he held onto Ann’s shoulders comfortingly.

Makoto pointed to the upper corner of the painting, behind Shiho on the roof. “...I _definitely_ wasn’t there myself, so why am I in this painting…” Her hand was placed on her chin in thought, which reminded Akira of what he did when he was using his Third Eye.

 _Hey, why don’t I-_ Akira reminded himself in frustration at his poor memory, before consciously making the effort to focus his perception and tap into the other sense Igor had taught him. The painting glowed just like important objects did, but Akira immediately noticed that the Makoto standing off to the side in the painting did not glow like the rest of it.

“Maybe because… you _weren’t_ there, like you said,” Akira’s face was grim.

Makoto tilted her head in curiosity.

Akira swallowed, lifting his hand to the curtain on the left. “Um, please don’t be offended.” Akira felt really uncomfortable with what he was about to do, but the more he thought about it, the more right it seemed.

Makoto just motioned for him to go on, staring intently at the painting.

Slowly, forcing his hand not to tremble, Akira drew the curtain across the painting, and tied it up so that only a small part of it was covering the Makoto in the painting, leaving everything else as it was.

To Akira’s dismay, the lightbulb above the painting flicked on.

He glanced over at Makoto, whose face hadn’t changed at all. “Great,” she said. “Let’s move on.” Without waiting for an answer, she turned on her heel and went over to the next painting.

Akira hurried after her. “Queen, wait-”

“If you can ‘talk about it later,’ so can I, Joker,” she said, a slight edge in her voice. “We have to focus at the moment.” She still wasn’t looking at him.

Akira knew she was right, but it still felt bad. “Yeah… okay,” he said finally.

The cognitive Yusuke was applauding again. “Oh, bravo!” he called. “Yes, that’s absolutely correct! Our Makoto is certainly a stalwart fist, but there was a time when she wasn’t so brave, and looked away from our manager’s suffering, and dear Suzui’s, of course.” The cognitive Yusuke looked very pleased with himself, which made Akira start to understand why Yusuke seemed to want to punch him.

“Didn’t need that spelled out for me, thanks,” Makoto muttered quietly.

“Um, so,” Haru said gently. “What’s this painting?” She pointed to the one they had just arrived at.

Akira stepped forward to study it. The scene before him was unrecognizable to any event Akira had witnessed himself. The scene depicted in the painting appeared as some kind of chapel, looking like what would happen if the Palace’s gaudiness barfed all over the Kanda church. At the altar was a huge sculpture of all the Phantom Thieves, with Akira at the front (“Of course,” Ryuji muttered), Ryuji right next to him (“Hey wait, that’s pretty good, right?” Ryuji whispered), and Ann close behind. The rest were basically indistinguishable, essentially being the background for the “original” three, though Akira did notice Morgana running around at Akira’s feet. Mishima was kneeling at the altar, and three demonic figures loomed overhead, one of whom was instantly recognizable as Kamoshida, while the other two, Akira realized, were the childhood bullies Mishima had been wanting to take revenge on.

“And… who are they?” Ann pointed to the bottom of the painting, where two figures were turned away from everything at the focal point, completely stoic looks on their faces. 

“...I’m not sure,” Akira said. This painting looked miles more complex than the others, and Akira had no idea what to make of it.

“Man, what the fuck kinda church is _he_ going to?” Futaba said.

“I _don’t_ think this is a real church,” Makoto said quickly.

“‘Cuz I know Kamoshida, and he’d _never_ go to church,” Ryuji laughed.

Akira frowned. “If this isn’t a real church, then that probably means this isn’t a real, actual event that happened…” he pondered.

“Yo, Yusuke!” Ryuji yelled.

Yusuke flinched and covered his ears. _“Again_ with the yelling, I’m _right here,_ for pity’s sake-”

Ryuji just sighed. “Dude, come on…”

The cognitive Yusuke glanced over at Ryuji, but didn’t stop working. “If I didn’t enjoy having different company for once, I might get a bit annoyed with such frequent interruptions,” he said shortly.

Ryuji grinned nervously. “Yeah, yeah, sorry, but uh… Is there any, uh…” He blinked, then ducked down into the team huddle. _“What’s the word?”_ he whispered.

Ann and Akira looked at each other and shrugged.

 _“Symbolism,”_ Yusuke and Makoto said simultaneously, in the same exasperated voice.

Ryuji quickly jumped back up. “Yeah, symbolism! Is there any of that in this painting?”

The cognitive Yusuke looked at Ryuji like he was a small, dull child. “Of course. I pride myself on the portrayal of various themes in all of my pieces.” Akira noticed he didn’t elaborate on which themes. The real Yusuke snorted in disgust, while the cognition narrowed his eyes at Ryuji. “You certainly take after our Ryuji in the brains department,” he said dryly.

“Thanks!” Ryuji grinned. “...Wait a minute,” he paused as he returned to the team, face souring. 

“Is… Is he doing that on _purpose?”_ Yusuke balked.

Everyone looked at each other, all remembering Yusuke’s uncanny ability to insult people (seemingly) without realizing it. “To be honest…” said Makoto, “We don’t really know.”

Yusuke turned his attention back to the painting. “Well, symbolism, eh?”

He studied the setup and the various instruments without saying a word. After about five minutes, he clapped his hands. “I’ve done it,” he announced.

“You figured it out?” Morgana asked. “I couldn’t make heads or tails of it…”

Yusuke gestured to the implements around them. “All of these are paramount for creating the scene intended for us.” Yusuke began to explain. “This resembles a place of worship for the Phantom Thieves, so what would these enemies of the Phantom Thieves be?” He continued without waiting for an answer. “Devils. That would explain why Mishima appears to be praying for help from the thieves, who he considers to be his saviors. It’s quite on-the-nose, but that works in our favor.” Yusuke paused to take a breath before continuing, handing out the strange flashlights he had been examining earlier. “These black lights should be turned onto each of the three demonic figures in the background,” he tossed a larger floodlight to Akira, who grunted from the weight when he caught it. “And this should be shone onto the statue in the foreground.

Akira was stunned, and not just from the sudden projectile. “Wow, Yusuke, that’s… pretty impressive,” he said after a pause.

Yusuke looked pleased. “Thank you very much. It’s only simple symbolism. Though…” He looked thoughtful again. “The one area I could not figure out were the two people at the bottom…”

Akira looked again. The figures who had turned away from Mishima were a man and a woman, and considering their prominent featuring here, could really mean only one thing.

“They’re his parents,” Akira announced.

Everyone was silent. “That’s horrible…” Ann gasped. “His own parents didn’t even care about what was happening to him…”

“But what should we do to reflect that? They’re at the bottom, so nothing we have can cover them up without obscuring the rest, too.” Haru was being very brave about the whole thing for someone who knew about distant parents far too well.

The cognitive Yusuke piped up from his spot in the corner. “That curtain on the right comes off, you know.”

Yusuke nodded in understanding. “All right, Skull, Noir, you hold that curtain over the bottom.” He pointed to the area with Mishima’s parents. “Oracle, Panther, Queen, you hold the black lights.” He gestured to the top of the painting. “And Akira,” he pointed to the light in Akira’s arms. “You illuminate the statue of us- I mean, the Phantom Thieves.”

“What about you?” Ryuji asked, kneeling down to be on the right level to hold the curtain. 

“Me? I’m supervising,” Yusuke said, like it was obvious.

Futaba sighed as she flicked on her black light. “I feel so stupid,” she muttered.

“Who even makes art like this?” Morgana grumbled, drawing a pointed look from the cognitive Yusuke.

As the black light shone on the three villains at the top of the painting, it revealed evil smiles on their faces and devil horns on their heads, further proving Yusuke right, while the glow from Akira’s floodlight seemed to make the statue of the Phantom Thieves sparkle and glitter like it was made of gold. Meanwhile, the bottom of the painting that Ryuji and Haru were covering up made the overall composition of the piece look _better_ without the extra focus, like they were never meant to be there in the first place.

“Man, this is depressing,” Ryuji sighed.

The end result was shaky, short-lived, and resulted in what looked like a collage of various limbs from the team as they fumbled to get in the right positions, but they managed to recreate what Yusuke was dictating.

Yusuke was framing the scene like it was his own picture. “A little to the left, Noir, that’s it…”

 _This had better work,_ Akira thought to himself as he held the light steady.

Suddenly, they heard the telltale _ding!_ sound that indicated a correct scene, as well as the cognitive Yusuke’s applause, and more importantly, a _whooshing_ sound behind them. Akira turned to see that the door at the end of the gallery had slid open, allowing them access to the next room. 

Ann dropped her black light immediately. “Yes!” she cheered, and went over to the door. “Thanks Yusuke! And, um, Yusuke.” She glanced between the Yusukes like she was watching a tennis match.

“You’re very welcome,” both of them said at once, creating a bizarre echo effect that made Akira double take.

As Akira led the team to the door, more than ready to put this uncomfortable gallery behind him, when he suddenly ran right into the cognitive Yusuke.

“What the-” he stammered. “Uh… excuse us?”

“Where on earth are you going?” The cognitive Yusuke seemed like he hadn’t heard.

“Uh… through the door we just opened?” Ann said.

The cognitive Yusuke shook his head. “You’re not allowed,” he said sharply.

Ryuji pushed forward. “Uh, I think we are, Emo Yusuke,” he growled.

The cognitive Yusuke pushed him away with an unnatural force that caused Ryuji to stumble backwards, and he would have fallen if Akira and Ann hadn’t caught him. _“What the fuck…”_ Ryuji gasped, like all the wind had been knocked out of him.

The cognitive Yusuke produced a sheathed katana that Akira had never seen anywhere on his person before that very moment. “I’m terribly sorry, but I do have my orders. I need to fight you.”

Akira sighed. “Can we please not, this is all a misunderstanding-”

The cognitive Yusuke still seemed not to hear him. “Either turn back, or I will have to kill you,” he snapped. He still hadn’t drawn his sword.

“Sorry, but that isn’t going to happen,” Makoto declared. “Stand aside.”

The cognitive Yusuke arched an eyebrow. _“That_ isn’t going to happen either,” he cautioned.

“Then why did you help us with these paintin’s?” Ryuji growled. He hefted his bat, and then remembered he didn’t have it, so he just awkwardly shoved his hands into his pockets. 

The cognitive Yusuke looked appalled. “I thought you were just admiring the art, not… plotting to overthrow our manager and seize control of the Phantom Thieves!” he spluttered. 

Ann raised a hand. “First of all, that’s, uh, _not_ what we said-“

“Administrator Mishima knows what’s best for us,” the cognitive Yusuke declared, as if Ann hadn’t even spoken. “Who are _you_ to challenge that?”

The real Yusuke stepped forward and glared at his duplicate. “We are _true_ thieves, not mockeries like yourself and your comrades,” he spat.

The cognitive Yusuke reeled back slightly, surprised at his boldness. “I would have thought _you_ would be the last person who wanted to fight me, my sympathetic artist fri-”

“And do you know what?” Yusuke’s voice was rising. 

“What on earth are you talking about?”

“The technique of these pieces,” Yusuke gestured to the paintings in the room, “Is, quite frankly, absolutely atrocious.”

The temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees. “What. Did you. Say.” The cognitive Yusuke’s voice was terrifyingly calm.

The real Yusuke, however, was just getting started. “I didn’t want to say it for the sake of politeness, but these paintings are all style and no substance. Your composition is mediocre at best, and I’m not even going to mention the _outstandingly_ garish frames you’ve selected-”

The cognitive Yusuke’s eyes popped. “You _dare?”_ he yelled. 

Ryuji grabbed Yusuke’s shoulder. “Fox, no, it’s not worth getting mad about-”

Yusuke thrust his left arm out for emphasis. “I am _not_ saying this out of simple anger! I _must_ challenge him, he is an insult to everything I have striven for as an artist!” This was the most emotion Akira had seen from him since he awakened to his Persona for the first time all the way back in May. “At least now I have an unburdened conscience!”

As both Yusukes got more and more heated, Akira could see the disparity between them plain as day. Yusuke was inflamed with righteous passion, while his cognitive double was sinking lower and lower into mindless, vain rage, all facsimiles of elegance and grace entirely gone.

And with that, finally, Akira understood. While the cognitive Ryuji had absolutely infuriated the real Ryuji, and the cognitive Futaba had scared the daylights out of the real Futaba, the cognitive Yusuke brought out a different emotion in the real Yusuke, and that was _pride._ Not the twisted kind of pride that had made Madarame into a monster, but simple self-respect and dignity.

Akira realized that this mockery of who Yusuke was only made him want to strive even harder to be better than this twisted shell of himself. 

_Huh,_ Akira thought to himself. He had never seen a cognition inspire _positive_ feelings in its original counterpart before, but as always, Yusuke continued to surprise him.

Of course, this still meant they had to fight him, but that was an inevitability anyways, so Akira was glad Yusuke had gotten the last word in.

The cognitive Yusuke, meanwhile, was apoplectic with rage. “You’re nothing like _me_ at all, you ignorant child!” he screamed.

Yusuke unsheathed his katana and tossed the sheath to the side, as elegantly as a master artist would stroke his brushes. “And I, for one, am quite glad of that,” he said, a smile creeping onto his face.

Akira swore he could see a vein pop on the cognitive Yusuke’s forehead. “Very well!” he screeched, and drew his weapon, an elegant silver katana that was slightly longer than Yusuke’s own, pointing it directly at the superior artist. “Die, without further delay!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i deeply apologize, i didn't WANT to end this chapter on a cliffhanger, but it really was the best place to cut it up. (can you guys tell I really really love writing Yusuke?) don't worry, Mishima will be showing up soon... ;)


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uhhh just a quick heads up this chapter gets kind of bloody, it's nothing graphic, but if you're easily distressed by the image of blood (like poor ryuji) then, uh... reader discretion is advised. thanks yall!

Akira had played many video games that had described someone as an “inhuman swordsman,” but he had never been able to imagine what that looked like until he saw the cognitive Yusuke in action.

He fought like a demon, with an inhuman speed that was only matched by his unparalleled movement and savage attacks. Unlike the cognitive Ryuji, who had needed a squad of backup goons to take on the Phantom Thieves, this cognition was more than capable of taking on all four of his opponents at once, without breaking a sweat. He was so swift and aggressive that it was too much of a risk to take the time to use Persona abilities without making sure he was distracted, which was what Ann was doing, trying to use Hecate to weaken him and wear him down from afar, but he was so nimble that every one of the fireballs she slung amounted to nothing more than a scorch mark on the floor where he had been a millisecond prior. 

This problem was only worsened by the cognitive Yusuke’s taunting towards Ann. Or perhaps “taunting” wasn’t the right word, it was more like… derision, dancing between her missiles, smirking at her failed attempts to hit him, and giving her creepy looks while he was still fighting with his hands. This only made Ann more pissed off, which made her even less helpful than before.

Akira, meanwhile, had his own problems. He could feel himself tiring already. The battle was simply too kinetic, even with Makoto and Yusuke double-teaming the cognition along with his healing support, the cognition was able to dip between them and dance around the entire room, using the extended range of his weapon to nip in and pierce their defenses. Suddenly, the cognitive Yusuke whirled around and lunged at Akira himself, completely switching his target and loosing his blade from the sheath.

“Joker!” came the panicked voice of Ryuji in Akira’s ear. Instantly, time seemed to slow down. Akira’s muscles tensed, and before the cognitive Yusuke’s wrist flashed, Akira was tucked into a dive roll, ending across the room by the door and getting to his feet with a grace he didn’t know he had.

“Skull!” Futaba sounded slightly annoyed. “Don’t touch the buttons without knowing what they do!”

“WHAT?” Ryuji yelled. “I just saved his ass! It was green, green is good, right?”

Futaba sighed. “Yes, Skull, green is good.”

Akira grinned. “I think you’d be good to have as an assistant navigator more often, Skull.”

“Oh, hell no, I’d much rather be protecting you down there-”

Akira’s heightened agility from the spontaneous buff must not have worn off entirely, because he sensed a presence behind him just in the nick of time, stepping away from the door and spinning his knife into “stab” position, point facing down.

“What in the-”

The two Shadows from the front desk were standing at the door, completely dumbfounded by the pitched battle that was taking place inside the gallery. 

_Shit._

The one who was still holding their crossword puzzle reached a hand into its pocket.

“No! It’ll raise the alarm!” Futaba cried.

Before Akira could think about it, he lunged forward, roughly grabbed the shoulder of the first Shadow, yanked it closer to him, and ducked underneath as it staggered forward, off balance. Without allowing himself to hesitate, Akira used his low position to stab the Shadow’s chest several times for good measure, narrowly catching the window to rip off its mask with his other hand, discarding the enemy’s mask immediately.

The Shadow, still in the process of falling from being shoved over by Akira, simply fell to the ground with a _splat_ and quickly dissolved into red and black goo.

“That’s the immediate threat down,” Futaba told him. “Now go for the other one!”

Akira paused for one moment to wipe his mask, and saw the other Shadow just standing stock-still, obviously terrified to approach. Akira winced. “Uh… sorry about this…” he said, but the encroaching sounds of metal on metal behind him reminded Akira he couldn’t wait around.

“Yo, let us give you an assist!” Ryuji called in his ear. 

Akira frowned. “Assist? How-”

“Great! Thanks man!”

Futaba sounded frantic. “Ryuji, wait! That’s not how I do things-”

Ryuji didn’t seem to hear her, because Necronomicon materialized right above the Shadow, and it looked up in confusion, hand on its gun. “Now or never, Oracle! C’mon, you can do it!”

Futaba took a strangled deep breath. “Gahhh… fine! Joker, ready to receive!”

Before the Shadow could try to fire on the Persona, Necronomicon’s tentacles snaked out of the bottom of it, wrapped around the Shadow and winding up, as if to throw it. 

Akira laughed out loud. “Oh, I get it,” he said to himself, then, relying purely on muscle memory, cast off his current mask and switched to Unicorn, summoning the demon beside him and preparing for what he knew he was about to see…

Bingo. The Shadow flew from Necronomicon’s grip right to where Akira was standing, and working in tandem, Akira and Unicorn vaulted into the air, diving in to give the flying Shadow a bone-shattering blow in the back, sending it all the way across the room, bouncing on the floor before skidding to a stop right behind the main group at the back of the gallery, almost tripping the cognitive Yusuke.

_“Hell_ yeah!” Ryuji crowed. “Thanks, Oracle!”

“No problem, Skull! Please never make me do that again!” Futaba said cheerfully. “Now get back over there, Joker, I don’t like how this is looking.”

Back at the main group, things weren’t going very well. 

“What took you so long?” Makoto huffed, taking the chance of summoning Johanna to renew the protective effect on the group.

“I was a little busy with the two goons from the front,” Akira told her. He tossed her a Takemedic needle without slowing down, turning around as he kept running to point at the medicine in her hand. “Take care of yourself,” he ordered, giving her a meaningful look.

Makoto may have retreated to focus on support in Akira’s absence, but Yusuke had done no such thing. If anything, he was pressing harder solo than he had been with an ally, even with Ann’s fiery artillery support being as much of a danger to him as his double. The cognitive Yusuke still distinctly had the advantage, though. His sword moved faster than Akira’s eye could even process, and it almost seemed like he was slashing multiple times in the same motion as drawing it from the sheath, which was… absolutely absurd. Akira brought out a weak Sandman, who he kept around specifically for one ability, which he used immediately.

Sandman radiated sluggish energy from its whole body, and when it was focused onto one target, it caused all their movement to slow to a crawl. 

Or, at least, usually. In the case of the cognitive Yusuke, it only served to make his feral attacks about thirty percent less hyperactive.

Immediately, Akira fell in with the real Yusuke, sword to knife, ready to finish the fight. 

“Ah, Joker!” Yusuke was as calm as if they had simply run into each other at the bookstore. “Lovely to see you.” He thrust his katana behind his back to deflect one of the cognitive Yusuke’s attacks. Even his face was moving slower, so Akira could actually see his features contorting with rage in real time when he realized he had missed. It would have been comical under different circumstances.

Akira was slightly less collected than Yusuke, spinning his knife back to “slash” position, point up. “C’mon, let’s beat this loser.”

Yusuke turned to face the cognition again, sheathing his katana for the next draw. “Certainly,” he agreed, and they went back to back, trying to anticipate the cognitive Yusuke’s next move. The speed decrease had made it so that he couldn’t keep scurrying around the room for the time being, but there was still a chance he could gain some ground if he committed.

Joker wasn’t going to let that happen. He raised an arm and yelled in his most commanding leader-voice. “PANTHER! COVER US!” 

“I was waiting to hear you say that!” Ann called mischievously. “Just give me some fuel!”

Akira winked at her, and used his most powerful Persona, Moloch, to expel a toxic cloud of air towards the front half of the room, covering the entire width of it. The blighted air was incredibly conductive to all kinds of magic, including fire, which Ann immediately took advantage of, abandoning her idea of support and jumping behind the cloud of fumes. 

The cognitive Yusuke seemed to sense something was about to happen, and he made a break for the divide Akira had created, eyes locked on Ann. 

Ann looked terrified, but she stood her ground, using the last of her spirit energy to call Hecate to her side, and together they sprayed a wide blast of fire at the stagnant air, lighting the incredibly flammable substance on fire almost immediately, creating a mesmerizing barrier of what seemed like a floating mass of pure flame, separating the area the fight was taking place in from the larger half of the room, while also cutting off escape. The cognitive Yusuke stopped in his tracks, inches from the blaze.

“There we go!” Ann’s figure looked distorted behind the flickering flames as she wiped sweat from her brow. “But uh, you guys really have to beat him now!”

“No problem!” Futaba chimed in. “I’ll power you up! Ryuji, no, let _me_ do it this time-”

Immediately, renewed strength surged through Akira’s body, and he flexed his fingers involuntarily, grateful for the boost. Yusuke had the same aura of power around him, and focused on the cognitive Yusuke, who seemed to realize he was completely trapped. With a chilling snarl, he straightened up and met Yusuke’s approach like a cornered animal, fighting as ferociously as one.

Watching the two cross blades was breathtaking, not least because Akira could appreciate the disparity between their styles. The cognitive Yusuke was fast, no doubt, but he was also way too aggressive, counting on his unparalleled reactions to get out of danger, leading him to overcommit sometimes because he was so confident he could recover. The real Yusuke, on the other hand, may not have had the superhuman speed of his duplicate, but he compensated for this with perfect form and grace, slicing as neatly and as cleanly as a brush stroke, and not being afraid to disengage and pick his hits. With the restorative support from Makoto, the increased power behind their strikes from Futaba, and Akira’s underhanded combat style complimenting Yusuke’s own, they were able to get the superficial artist on the ropes.

Even so, Akira was still at a supreme disadvantage bringing a knife to a swordfight, so he drew his gun from his pocket and took aim at the cognitive Yusuke, making sure it was the right one before committing. Even with his lowered agility, the cognitive Yusuke was able to dodge several of Akira’s shots, which was utterly confounding, because he was _also_ dodging Yusuke’s clean slices at the same time.

“Ugh, this dude is just like that bastard with the fucking red capote…” Futaba grumbled to herself. Akira assumed she was talking about a video game, and thus paid her no mind.

Meanwhile, Yusuke was, in fact, on a roll. He neatly deflected one of his double’s savage slashes and used the momentum to jerk both of their blades to the side. The cognitive Yusuke was thrown off balance for the first time in the fight, but he recovered quickly. Unfortunately for him, Yusuke recovered even faster, nipping ahead of the cognition’s ill-timed dodge and managing to cut off one of his sleeves, leaving a neat gash around his shoulder that oozed silver liquid.

“You… _ridiculous_ child!” the cognitive Yusuke screeched, wiping his shoulder indignantly and staring at the blood on his fingers in disbelief, as if he had never seen it before. “Only the lowliest scum employ such dirty tactics!”

Yusuke smiled, spreading his arms. “I am a thief. Such is life,” he said simply. 

Then Yusuke winked, leveled his sword, and charged forward with a lunging thrust. It was a very predictable attack, so much so that all the cognitive Yusuke needed to do to avoid it was step backwards, not bothering to mask the amused surprise on his face.

But, of course, that was the plan. Akira’s gun vibrated, responding to the powerful energy coursing through him as a result of Futaba’s assistance, and Akira fired his gun right at the spot where the cognitive Yusuke was dodging backwards to.

There was a horrible scream of pain, but mostly of shock and indignation from the cognitive Yusuke as he stumbled back and clutched his chest.

“Now’s our chance!” Ryuji cried, after a scuffling sound that seemed suspiciously like he had snatched the headset away from Futaba. “Get ‘im, now!”

“I’m here! Let’s do it!” came a high voice from behind Akira. Without thinking, Akira bent over so that Morgana could jump on his back, and together the two of them followed up with a second blast of gunfire (and slingshotfire) that caught the cognitive Yusuke just as he was collecting himself, sending him reeling yet again. 

Evidently, it seemed, he was not accustomed to getting hit.

Without missing a beat, Akira thrust his arm forward as Morgana withdrew. “Fox, go go go!” he shouted. 

Yusuke nodded and sprinted in to meet the cognition as he fell, drawing his sword and slashing at him multiple times, each stroke graceful, yet unrelenting in its precision and power. The cognitive Yusuke was utterly helpless, his own blade scattered to the floor, and all he could do was take each blow.

Akira knew they had to keep up this momentum, so he charged in and gave the cognitive Yusuke a good hefty kick in the chest, sending him crashing to the floor.

“YES!” Futaba cried in excitement. _“Stop_ Ryuji- Now’s your chance for an All-Out Attack!”

Akira was ready to pull out his knife again, and he saw Makoto slide on her fisticuffs, but Yusuke held out a hand firmly. “Wait.”

Makoto could hardly believe it. “Are you _positive?”_ she said, her voice strained. She kept looking to Joker for orders, and Akira could tell that it was all she could do to not just run in and beat the fuck out of the poser artist herself.

As they waited and watched, the cognitive Yusuke, bleeding from countless places and his hair utterly ruined, shakily rose to his feet. His face was smudged beneath the eyes and Akira had to stifle a laugh. _It really was makeup after all..._

“Jesus christ, he’s still going?” Ryuji groaned. “How much does it take-”

“You…” The cognitive Yusuke’s voice was ragged and bitter. “I will… reduce you… to _NOTHING!”_ Akira was at a loss for how the cognitive Yusuke would go about doing that, seeing as he had lost his sword, but one glance at the look in his eyes convinced Akira he was determined to back the threat up. “Inferior imbeciles… stubborn lunatics…” The cognitive Yusuke seemed to have broken entirely, and Akira no longer saw any resemblance it had to the brilliant man that stood opposite him, sword sheathed.

Makoto looked mutinous. _“Why can’t we-”_

“You need to trust him,” Akira said softly. “This is his fight.”

“Wrong!” Yusuke seemed to have heard Akira, and whirled around to face the team. “This is _ours.”_ He reached out to the wall of fire on their right and beckoned with his hand. “Come, Panther! Let us finish this together!”

Like some kind of incredibly beautiful demon from the depths of hell, Ann came walking onto the battlefield straight through her own blazing barrier, not even flinching as the flames licked all around her. 

The cognitive Yusuke shrank back in fear at the sight of her, at a loss for words for probably the first time in his life.

Ann and Yusuke stood shoulder to shoulder, a triumphant look on both of their faces. “Beautifully?” Ann asked Yusuke, eyes locked on the cognition. 

Yusuke grinned. “Of course.”

The two of them joined hands, and Akira felt the telltale warmth in his pocket that meant the wishing star was ready to use its magic. 

“And now for a show!” Yusuke declared.

Akira nudged Makoto. “And all we have to do is watch,” he told her. Makoto sighed, and let her arms relax. 

“I suppose you’re right…”

Akira blinked, and they were in a traditional Japanese home, completely enveloped in the scenery.

“Prepare to witness the pinnacle of beauty!” Yusuke called as the two of them posed, Yusuke with his sword, and Ann with her parasol.

“Though I doubt _you’d_ understand!” Ann jeered, and she stirred up the mats on the floor with her whip as easily as if they were made of paper. 

Yusuke ducked behind one of the upraised mats, peeking out at the cognitive Yusuke, who seemed to be screaming at the two of them, but he seemed to have been completely silenced by the star. Either that, or he had blown out his voice completely. Akira wouldn’t have been surprised.

Yusuke drew his sword with a flourish, sheathing it again just as gracefully, and one by one the mats were cut in half seemingly out of nowhere, leaving only a shower of cherry blossoms in their wake. 

But when there would normally have been a last slash in the direction of the cognitive Yusuke, instead Yusuke straightened up, Ann joining him at his side.

Yusuke drew something from his pocket, and passed it to Ann so she could hold it. “Let it be your demise - our combined art!”

Ann tossed the object high up into the air. “Enthralled?” she called.

With one swift motion, Yusuke grabbed the object, which Akira could now see was the sculpture of melted metal they had made together in the auditorium earlier… “Enchanted!” ...and threw it as hard as he could, straight into the cognitive Yusuke’s forehead.

The scene melted away the instant the object hit home, and the cognitive Yusuke collapsed to the ground before he could even scream another insult, silver blood gushing from his head.

* * *

There was a brief moment of total silence.

Then everyone started to laugh, both with relief that they had won the battle, and at the inarguably absurd means that had been used to deal the final blow.

Ann exhaled, shaking off her hair. _“Whew!_ That felt… _really_ good!” she breathed. “I _hated_ that guy… He was nothing like you,” she said sympathetically, putting a hand on his shoulder. 

Yusuke nodded approvingly. “A fine showing,” he agreed. “I’m so glad we could put our talents to good use, Panther. Thank you for believing in me.”

“Of course! Let’s try it again sometime!” she agreed, a little too enthusiastically for Akira’s taste, considering their idea of “art” seemed utterly terrifying to create.

Ryuji and Futaba descended seemingly from nowhere, the two of them fighting over the headset until Necronomicon at last fully dematerialized, returning Futaba’s goggles to her face. Ryuji immediately rushed over to Yusuke and put a hand on his shoulder. 

“Oh, hello Skull,” Yusuke said happily.

Ryuji was looking at him with wide eyes. “Dude, you are… _really_ extra, and I can’t get enough of it,” he said seriously.

Yusuke laughed. “I suppose that was a bit theatrical, you’re correct,” he mused. “...But that buffoon certainly deserved it.”

Morgana hopped up on Akira’s shoulder. “I’ll say! That was insane, Yusuke! Fantastic fighting!”

Ann approached the cognitive Yusuke’s corpse. “Uh… what should we do with this?”

Yusuke studied it for a moment, and then used one boot to gently nudge his and Ann’s sculpture back closer to the body. “Eugh,” he said. “I can’t display _that_ anymore, it’s been… tainted.”

“No, not the ‘art,’ th-the _guy,_ the body!" Futaba spluttered.

Yusuke raised a hand thoughtfully. “Ah. Yes, right.” He pushed up his mask and wiped his sweaty brow. “If I may be perfectly honest with you…” he started... “I don’t care.” He dropped his hand, and promptly lay down on the floor, eyes closed and snoring.

Ryuji looked at him with a mixture of confusion and amusement. “Did he really just- okay then.” He leaned down and gave Yusuke a short kiss on his forehead. “Take it easy, man.”

Everyone was looking. Ryuji realized this too late, and blushed, kicking at the floor. “Shit, you guys, there’s a dead guy to our right and you’re looking at _me?”_

Ann nodded cheerfully. “Yes.”

“I will forever be annoyed that cameras do not work in the Metaverse for some reason,” Futaba added.

“Guys…” Makoto said. Akira glanced over to the right. Makoto was kneeling down next to the cognitive Yusuke’s body. “Skull may have a point.”

The group clambered over to look at the body, with the obvious exception of the real Yusuke.

“Eugh…” Ann made a face. “Now that you mention it, it is pretty weird that it hasn’t disappeared yet…”

“Doesn’t help that he looks so much like a real person, too…” Futaba shuddered. “What did you want us to look at, Queen?”

Makoto parted the cognitive Yusuke’s hair to expose the gaping wound in his head, grimacing as she did so. Akira heard Ryuji gag from behind him, and he didn’t blame him. It was quite a sight. The silver blood was starting to dry and seep into the plush carpet. Wait, was it blood…?

Makoto seemed to read his thoughts. “This isn’t blood,” she declared. “It’s more like… oil.”

Akira could swear he heard a sound like Ryuji puking behind him, but he didn’t turn around. “Like… machine oil?”

Makoto smirked humorlessly. “I own a motorcycle. Machine oil smells a lot nicer than this.” Her eyes flickered with nostalgia for a second, before returning to focus. “But… it’s in that ballpark, yes,” she admitted.

Futaba was crouched down with her hands on her knees. She didn’t seem the least bit fazed, but then again, Futaba wasn’t exactly the squeamish type. “So… what’s that mean? Are they like… machines, or something?”

Morgana tentatively rubbed a paw on the cognitive Yuske’s arm. He immediately shivered, and jumped back. “Gah… it’s as cold as ice…” he winced. “But it felt almost hollow, like there was barely anything inside. Not like a puppet or anything, but… definitely missing a lot of the important stuff.”

“Like a heart?” Yusuke made them all jump.

Ryuji slugged him in the shoulder. Akira noticed he was blushing. “Dude!” Ryuji cried. “How long have you been standin’ there? It’s creeping me out, man, stop doing that!”

Yusuke bowed his head. “I am sorry,” he said simply. “But I did mean what I said, I feel like this… creature… certainly lacks some important functions.”

Ann bent down and picked something up from the floor. “Look, his mask…” she pointed. Indeed, the object she was holding was a ceramic mask, not dissimilar to the one Yusuke himself was wearing at that moment, but it wasn’t quite…

“It’s chipped,” Yusuke said. “I’m not surprised, we just had a very fierce battle, but all of our masks somehow stay in perfect condition no matter how senselessly we are beaten about.”

Akira picked off his own mask, holding it in his hands, and looked at it. Huh… “I… actually hadn’t noticed that before,” he said slowly.

Yusuke gently picked the mask out of Ann’s hands, and slightly less gently tossed it back to the ground. “In any case,” he said, brushing his hands off. “The condition of my inferior opponent’s mask is of no concern.”

Ann raised a hand. “Doesn’t all this weird stuff imply that Mishima thinks of us as… less than human?” she said uncomfortably.

“Yeah… all this stuff together paints a pretty grim picture,” Futaba remarked, stating the obvious.

Akira tried not to look at any of them as the awkward confirmation hung in the air. He didn’t want to draw attention to himself, not when his cognitive self in this Palace seemed to be getting the all-star treatment.

He saw Makoto catch his eye, and quickly looked somewhere else. Akira knew she knew what he was thinking. 

Ryuji, who had finally recovered from both his mild queasiness and embarrassment at Yusuke’s awakening, hung an uncharacteristically gentle arm around Ann’s and Makoto’s shoulders. Normally, this would have resulted in him being roughly pushed away, but both of the girls seemed relieved to have the reassurance. “Hey, don’t be like me, okay? If we end up meetin’ the rest of yours,” he said with a hollow laugh. “Be more like Fox here. Remember, you’re better than them.”

Akira could tell Ryuji was still deeply troubled by the appearance of his cognitive self, but he was trying very hard not to show it.

Makoto gently escaped from Ryuji’s grasp. “Thank you, Skull, but I think I’ll be-” She stopped. She looked around the room, seemingly counting something with one finger. Then she froze.

_“Where’s Haru?”_ Makoto hissed suddenly.

Akira was immediately relieved to know he could solve a problem. “Noir is right-” he moved to gesture next to him, but instead waved at empty air. “...here,” he trailed off, stunned.

Immediately, the entire team went into a frenzy. Futaba and Ryuji seemed to be fighting over whether or not to use Necronomicon’s scanners, and Makoto was literally kicking herself, muttering to herself about how stupid they all had been.

Akira went over to her. _“How did we not notice, she’s been gone for_ ages, _I can’t believe-”_ She stopped muttering to herself when Akira put a hand on her shoulder.

“How about we try _finding_ her,” he said gently.

Makoto exhaled. “...Right. Of course. That would be…” She shook her head. “This is why you’re the leader,” she sighed. She looked troubled about something, but everyone else was still panicking, so Akira cleared his throat. 

“Everybody _shut up!”_ Joker yelled.

Everybody shut up.

“I know we’re all feeling worried, but let’s try moving forward.” Akira gestured to the door that the cognitive Yusuke had so zealously been protecting. “This door has been open for the entire battle, and Noir could have advanced at any time while we were fighting.”

There were uneasy murmurs of agreement. 

“So let’s go, _quietly,_ and see if she’s there. If she’s not, then… well, we’ll think about that later.”

On that disquieting note, the group slowly filed through the door and into the next area.

* * *

The hallway they had entered was dark, the light of the art gallery behind them disappearing completely once Akira took the first step inside. The only visibility came from the light of the moon streaming in through the windows, producing shimmering moonbeams that pooled on the floor, which was now hard, reflective tile.

The atmosphere made Akira nervous, so he moved to the front and led the team in stealth. The hallway turned sharply after a few meters, so he pressed himself against the wall and peeked around the corner.

_“We need to talk.”_ Makoto’s voice behind him was quiet, yet forceful. 

Akira glanced back at her in disbelief. _“Now?”_ he hissed, frustration rising in him at the timing of the situation. Couldn’t Makoto just leave him alone for the infiltration? _“You want to do this-”_ he waved furiously around at the area they were in, _“Now?”_

Makoto narrowed her eyes. _“Yes, now! If you keep wiggling out of being vulnerable with us!”_

Akira dashed out from his hiding place and landed behind a large potted plant in the hall ahead of them, still crouching low and pressing himself against the cover to peek around. _“Well, in case you haven’t noticed, I’m a little busy at the moment.”_

Makoto followed him, just as expertly, crouching right behind Akira, mirroring his pose. _“We_ all _are busy! But you, as our leader, need to figure out how to_ deal _with yourself, Joker!”_ Now Makoto sounded more concerned than annoyed. 

Akira didn’t like how true that was, so he changed tack. _“I could say the same for you, you know.”_ He reached up and snatched a hidden treasure from inside the plant’s pot, stuffing the item into his pocket without looking at it. 

_“This isn’t about me, Joker,”_ Makoto said, an edge in her voice. The two of them advanced further down the hall, slightly faster and stopping more suddenly. 

_“Nothing ever is, according to you!”_ Akira hissed. _“You need to focus on yourself just as much as I do!”_ He wasn’t just deflecting; this really was something Akira worried about. Makoto was protective to a fault, a weakness she shared with Akira, but she also overworked herself and tried to stay detached from the team so that she could be the most expendable. These were all qualities Akira had been noticing since June, but they had only intensified as the months went on. _“Everything you’re saying about me should apply to yourself, too! We should have a_ real _talk, not you lecturing me!”_

Makoto’s fist clenched. _“Fine then, let’s_ do _that!”_ The two of them darted past a window, keeping each other low so that they didn’t cast a shadow. 

_“Figures that_ now _you listen to my judgement,”_ Akira scoffed. Part of him hated how confrontational he was being, but Makoto was being equally aggressive. 

_“I respect your direction, leader,”_ Makoto hissed. 

Akira finally reached the end of the hallway and pressed his ear up against the elevator door while Makoto slid in beside him, running a hand along the door. _“So why don’t you_ listen?”

Makoto punched the elevator button with a force that would fell an adult man. _“We can talk about this_ **_later,_ ** _at_ **_home,”_ ** she said through clenched teeth.

_“Together?”_ Akira said pointedly.

_“Yes, together,”_ Makoto repeated.

Akira nodded with grudging satisfaction as the doors slid open. _“Finally something we can agree on,”_ he snapped. 

Who knows whether they would have given each other the silent treatment for the rest of the mission, or apologized to one another for being so accusatory, but anything they would have done was cut short by the sight of Haru standing in the elevator, with two heavily armed and armored Shadows to the left of her. 

Both Akira and Makoto were too stunned to react at first. Haru’s eyes lit up at the sight of her friends, but one of the Shadows started to move, and, with a small sigh, Haru pulled off her mask and fanned both the Shadows’ faces with magic from Milady. Their heads lolled back, and the one that had started to move immediately crashed into the wall. The other one started rummaging around in its pockets and tossed out a crumpled wad of yen notes.

Akira noticed the symptoms immediately. “Tentarafoo?” he asked.

Haru leaned against the railing in exhaustion, nodding. “Yes... I’ve been… doing this… for ages...” She seemed extremely exhausted, like her spirit energy was almost gone.

The rest of the team clambered over behind them to look, and when they noticed Haru, everyone breathed a sigh of relief. “Right on time,” Akira said. He picked up Morgana, ignoring his mew of protest, and pulled a travel-sized thermos out from one of his many pockets and pouches. Akira tossed the canister to Haru, who caught it in surprise. “Drink that. You’ll feel better,” he offered.

Haru’s eyes widened. “Oh, is it-” She opened the thermos and sniffed. “Ah… yes, coffee…” she sighed in delight. “Thank you very much, Joker.”

Ryuji elbowed his way to the front. “Noir!” he cried. “What happened, I was- _we were_ worried about you!”

Haru took a long sip of her drink, and Akira could see her energy coming back. “I had gone on ahead, since I wasn’t currently taking part in the fighting,” she took another drink of coffee, “and I thought there might have been other enemies that could hear the battle,”

Everyone looked at each other. “I… hadn’t considered that,” Ann finally said.

Haru smiled. “Yes, well… I came to the bend in the hall, and found these two standing guard. They were too strong for me to silence,” she explained, casually gesturing with her axe and causing Futaba to duck, “so I simply resorted to confusing them repeatedly and forcefully to the point of obliviousness.” She pointed to the two Shadows standing next to her, who were both looking at their surroundings as if in awe. “They kept wandering away from me, so we eventually ended up in this elevator.”

Morgana looked mildly interested. “So _these_ are the effects of prolonged Confusion on Shadows…” he said to himself.

Makoto looked surprised and impressed. “Wow. Um… very impressive, Noir,” she stammered. “I’m very sorry we didn’t find you sooner.”

“Oh no, don’t worry about it, you were busy fighting!” Haru shook her head kindly, passing back her empty thermos, looking much more refreshed.

Ryuji was grinning. “Yeah, but we handled it _more_ than fine enough,” he boasted, stretching his arm cockily.

Morgana gave him a sideways glance. “You weren’t even fighting,” he sighed.

“What was that?” Ryuji snapped. “It’s not like _you_ did much fighting either, the battle was over in a few minutes with Joker and Fox’s teamwork! And Panther’s finisher, of course,” he added quickly.

“A few minutes?” Haru tilted her head.

Everyone shut their mouths, and Ryuji shrank to the back of the group.

“But I was in here for what felt like fifteen minutes at _least!”_ Haru continued.

Akira’s stomach twisted into a knot. “Um… We were a little preoccupied afterwards, and since, uh, like you said, you were in backup rotation, so we kind of just didn’t, um…”

No one finished his sentence.

“Oh, that’s fine,” Haru said politely, but with a slight chill in her voice. “I’m glad I could keep you all safe.” Suddenly, with no warning, she swept one of the confused Shadow’s legs out from under it, sending it crashing to the floor. Without hesitation, Haru slammed the end of her axe down onto its head with a sickening _crack,_ and the Shadow lay still. The other Shadow wasn’t as lucky, being unfortunate enough to get slammed into a wall and sliced almost completely in half with the wrong side of Haru’s axe. It slowly slid down the wall, leaving a smear of black and red goo in its trail, before finally crumpling on top of its coworker.

Haru turned back to face the team, a kind of smile on her face that Akira didn’t see very often. “Right!” she said. “Let’s go up, shall we? While I was here I noticed something I think we need to check out.”

Everyone was far too shocked to argue with her, and they all crammed into the elevator, trying to keep as far away from the crumpled Shadows until their corpses finally dissipated, with Futaba and Yusuke being the first to tentatively step onto the spot where they had been.

Ryuji pressed the “up” button, and they rode the elevator in silence, an uncomfortable anxiety hanging in the air.

When they reached the top, and everyone piled outside, Akira stopped Haru with a hand on her shoulder. “Noir…” he said feebly. “I’m sorry.” He ran a hand through his hair, staining his gloves with how sweaty he was. Gross.

Haru shook her head again. “No, it’s… really, it’s all right. I lost myself a little bit… I don’t blame any of you.” Akira looked up in surprise. Haru wasn’t facing him, and her gaze was distant. “I suppose all this means is I should work harder to be recognized, yes?”

Akira laughed nervously. “I- I wouldn’t phrase it exactly like that-”

Haru giggled, finally sparing Akira a glance. “You’re sweet. Thank you.”

“Ha, uh… you’re welcome? I didn’t really do anything th-”

Haru clapped her hands together with finality. “Well then! Come with me, everyone!” she called. Then, more quietly, she added: _“I found them.”_

“Them? Them who?” Futaba asked, but she didn’t need to. They entered through a large doorway into an even larger room, and right in the middle of the chamber, in between yet more Shadows, were two figures with their backs to them. The taller one had perfectly messy dark hair, a dashing blazer, and a very familiar menace in his step. The shorter one, with dark blue hair and a neat suit, was holding his partner very tightly. 

A gasp of alarm escaped Akira’s mouth. He corrected himself too late, clamping a hand over his own mouth, but the taller figure tilted his head at the sound.

Cognitive Akira turned to face the group, who had frozen in the doorway like they had been caught somewhere they really weren’t supposed to be.

And, well, they had.

Shadow Mishima turned as well, and upon seeing the team, he edged even closer to cognitive Akira and pointed theatrically at them all. _“Thieves?”_ he cried. It sounded more like a question than a cry of alarm. “Caught _red handed?”_ His golden eyes shone with interest. The cognitive Akira, meanwhile, was studying the group closely, with piercing eyes, keeping a hand on Mishima’s shoulder. 

Pushing past the shiver in his spine, Joker held out his gloved hands, maintaining a dashing air. “Well, they certainly are red,” he conceded, speaking loudly to hide his terror. “As for the ‘thieves,’ bit, well, that remains to be seen. Are you a _fan_ of thieves?” he asked.

Ann was tugging at his sleeve, but Akira couldn’t afford to break concentration.

Shadow Mishima laughed, but there was no humor in this; just mockery. _“My_ thieves are the only ones I’m a fan of! In fact, I’m their _biggest_ fan, aren’t I, my dear?”

The cognitive Akira stopped looking at the team and focused on Mishima, running a hand through his hair affectionately. “That’s right, darling,” he cooed.

Shadow Mishima grinned. “So, I’m afraid that means I’m _not_ a fan of thieves like yourselves!” he declared. “But, of course, the real question is, are _you_ thieves fans of _me?”_

Akira gulped. This was going to be tricky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello you lovely people! i'm genuinely really happy to finally update this, i know it's been a while, but here i am!!! i'm not dead and i love you all!!! (sorry about the cliffhanger but this chapter was ALREADY a little longer than it should have been and i just had to break it up... again. this means what was originally intended to be one chapter is now... three chapters. i'm a skilled writer i promise)


	13. Chapter 13

Akira began to pace in a small area, appearing totally at ease, but the pacing was purely out of nerves. “What if we aren’t fans of you? Which, let me just preface this-” Akira ran his fingers through his hair and chuckled nervously,  _ “-totally _ are, but speaking in hypotheticals here, you know how it is-”

The cognitive Akira expertly flipped a knife in his hand, only giving Akira a brief glance. “I escort you out,” he said blankly. Akira blinked. The cognition’s empty hands were wrapped tightly around Shadow Mishima, who seemed not to have heard a thing.

A chill ran down Akira’s spine. Shadow Mishima grinned. “Well, any haters like the ones you hypothetically know would have to be  _ pretty obsessed _ with me to make it all the way up here!” He laughed smugly. “So it’s the same result in the end, you see,” he said, still chuckling.

“Yo, what even is this place?” Ryuji interjected. Ann looked like she wanted to strangle him, but she smiled and played along.

“It’s very… eye-catching,” she said tactfully.

Akira looked around at the room they were in. It appeared to be an extension of the gallery from below, but instead of paintings, this huge display area was almost like a museum, ostensibly for Phantom Thief stuff. Akira couldn’t place some of the objects on display, but many others were instantly recognizable; he spotted a few calling cards, some old infiltration tools, a volleyball, and even the decoy treasure painting that they had stolen from Madarame’s museum. The room was smartly lit with yellow lights that stood out against the dark walls and floor, and a huge window at the left allowed moonlight to pour in to illuminate half the room with a soft, pale glow.

Shadow Mishima nodded. “Yes, it is quite nice… I make sure to preserve all Phantom Thieves artifacts in perfect condition. Many would pay a pretty penny for them, you know… Is that what you all are here for?”

Haru stepped forward. “Actually, we’re here for you, if you don’t mind, Mishima-kun, um, sir,” she said politely, stumbling over the proper way to address him. She was his senior, but he was also in a position of great power currently, and it was wise not to take any chances.

“Ah, yes, of course,” Shadow Mishima laughed airily. He snapped his fingers, and the cognitive Akira handed him a pad of paper. His hand raced across it, and in a split second he had torn off the sheet and presented it to Akira. It had eight completely identical signatures plastered on it, equally flamboyant and with far too many flourishes of the pen. 

“There you are,” Shadow Mishima waved loftily. “Distribute them amongst yourselves, and be thankful I gave one for each of you.”

Akira and the other thieves just kept standing there, staring at the paper. Ann’s lip was curled in a mixture of bewilderment and indignation, and Ryuji just looked pissed off.

It was only a matter of time before either somebody said something stupid, or they were muscled out the door, so Akira needed to think of something fast.

Just as he was about to open his mouth and try to ad-lib something clever, Shadow Mishima did his job for him.

“I have to say, your cosplays are quite excellent. Not nearly as nice looking as my dear Phantom Thieves, but they are a good attempt.”

“Thank you…” Akira’s voice was edgy. He wasn’t sure whether this conversation was trying to trick him or not.

“Still, though,” Shadow Mishima sniffed, pulling out his phone. “You  _ are _ trespassing, but I can’t bring myself to be angry at such…  _ devoted  _ fans.”

Ann laughed nervously. “Ahaha! Thank you! We were just-”

Mishima looked up from his phone, as if confused that the group was still there. “Now that you’ve had the honor of meeting me and my darling Akira, why don’t you leave? Go on, the door’s that way.”

Futaba snorted.  _ “Your darling Akira?”  _ escaped her before she covered her mouth.

Ryuji sauntered forward, arms spread in confusion. “Yeah, what’s with that? Why are you two so chummy together? It doesn’t make-”

Akira was beginning to realize that they had made a terrible mistake coming here. On impulse, he suddenly grabbed Ryuji’s arm and started dashing towards the door, praying the rest of the team would follow him.

_ “Not so fast,” _ Shadow Mishima ordered. Akira flinched and froze in place. “Turn around,” Mishima purred. Akira turned around slowly and mechanically, like he was on a turntable. Mishima was looking at him intently, a controlling smile on his face. “I’ve changed my mind, my little fanboy,” he said. “Stay here. Look at me, look at us.”

Nervously, Akira complied, returning to the front of the group and cautiously looking at the couple in front of them.

It had been a while since Akira had seen the cognitive version of himself very closely, so he had been kind of hoping that the portrait all the way back in the front hall had been exaggerating in some areas. He really should have known better at this point. If anything, the portrait had been  _ less _ beautiful than his cognitive double. There was something about his grey, sharp eyes that simply could not be replicated on canvas or anywhere else. 

His fingers ran through Shadow Mishima’s hair so lovingly, so naturally… It made Akira feel a strange mixture of ‘uncomfortable’ and ‘god I wish that were me’. A flurry of questions ran through Akira’s mind. Was this who Mishima thought he  _ was? _ Was this how Mishima  _ wanted _ him to be? Why were they  _ so _ close together? Were they dating or someth-

Wait a minute.

Oh  _ fuck. _ God damn it. Nonononono. Fuck. Shit. 

How could he have been so  _ stupid? _ The dates had been a great way to get closer to Mishima and try to help him, and Akira would be lying if he said he hadn’t enjoyed them, but he hadn’t even  _ considered  _ how this would affect the versions of the two of them in the Palace. The answer seemed to be… a great deal.

_ “Joker,”  _ Ann hissed.  _ “You… You alright there?” _

Akira realized he had been holding his head in his hands, and he awkwardly picked his head up and straightened himself. _ “I messed up,”  _ he said quietly.

“What?” Ann’s eyes were wide, and she forgot to whisper. “Joker, what do you mean-”

“I know  _ exactly _ what he means,” Makoto said scathingly. Akira flinched. He had been trying to avoid looking Makoto in the eye, considering she was the only one who knew enough to put all the pieces together. “You’ve been careless.  _ Again.” _ She elbowed past him, looking towards the two enemies in front of them. 

Everything was going wrong, and the worst part was that Akira would have to explain so much to tell everyone why. In that moment, Akira knew for certain that they did  _ not _ want to do  _ anything _ to provoke the cognitive Akira, which now included threatening Mishima. And Akira was afraid. The “danger levels” of this situation had gone from 25 to 70 in just a minute or two.

Ryuji laughed nervously, not quite sure what was going on. “So, uh, how high does this buildin’ go, anyway?” he asked Shadow Mishima, flashing the team a very obvious wink. “What’s it like at the top, huh? Keeping your T- ... _ anything _ up there?”

_ “That idiot!” _ Morgana whispered.

Shadow Mishima’s eyes widened. Slowly, an amused smile crept onto his face.  _ “Oh, _ I see!” he exclaimed. Then, inexplicably, he started applauding. The cognitive Akira joined in almost immediately, bolstering Mishima’s approval. “How wonderful!” he said with delight. “You aren’t just simple cosplayers, are you?” Mishima started laughing, a dry chuckle that had him bending over with mirth. He gently held his Akira’s hands in place, which finally made him stop applauding. “Oh, this is too perfect!” he chortled, wiping tears from his eyes. “You  _ really are _ trying to be  _ just like _ my Phantom Thieves!” Mishima let out one last giggle before composing himself and straightening up.

Ryuji chuckled along nervously. “Heh… Haha… Uh… this isn’t a good thing, huh?”

Shadow Mishima shook his head, still chuckling to himself. “No, it isn’t,” he agreed. “I’m  _ almost _ sorry to do this, my little ‘Fan-tom Thieves,’” he said with mock sincerity. “But overzealous admirers like yourselves might cause problems. It’s nothing personal, of course. But anyone perceptive enough to know about my Treasure has already made enough trouble. I mean, can you  _ imagine _ the scandal if  _ my _ Treasure was stolen?”

Ryuji was smiling slightly. “Hey, you just called me perceptive!” he said with a chuckle.

Akira groaned with frustration.  _ “Skull!” _ he hissed.  _ “Not the time!” _

Ryuji turned to face Akira, looking startled. He was even more startled when Akira reached into his jacket and pulled a specific item out of the pocket.  _ “What the hell, man!?” _ he spluttered.

Shadow Mishima was too focused on monologuing to notice. “No, the best way to deal with those like you is-”

Akira didn’t wait to find out what the best way to deal with those like him was. With a loud cry, he threw the Vanish Ball he picked out of Ryuji’s pocket onto the floor, causing it to shatter into a massive cloud of disorienting mist that the team was mercifully resistant to… somehow. “Everyone, we’re getting out of here!” Akira shouted. Six figures immediately ran for the exit, blowing past the confused Shadows at the door. Akira, who was waiting to be the last one out, paused, because one figure wasn’t moving.

He had almost forgotten about Makoto, who was now looking at him with a mix of disbelief and disgust. Akira gave her an apologetic look, hurriedly shouted “We can discuss it later!” and dashed away just as the last remnants of the smoke from the Vanish Ball dissipated. Akira knew she was angry at the moment, but he had assumed she would admit defeat and follow them out once she was left alone.

However, instead of doing that, Makoto drew her revolver and pointed it at the couple. “Alright, you two,” she growled. “Let’s see what you can do.”

Akira wanted to scream. They were  _ so close _ to getting away scot-free, all they needed was to just  _ leave.  _ So he did the rational thing. He panicked, ran back into the room, grabbed her arm at the elbow, and tried to pull her away. “We need to go.  _ Now,” _ Akira ordered. Makoto glared at him furiously, pulling away from Akira’s light grasp.

_ “No!” _ she snapped. “I’m going to finish this right here,  _ right _ now.”

“Futaba, tell the rest of the group to get yourselves out of here, now, as fast as you possibly can.” 

“But-” Futaba’s protests rang in his ear.

_ “Do it.  _ Get out of the building,  _ now.” _

Akira could sense Shadow Mishima smiling in amusement, but he couldn’t let himself dwell on that. The couple of Shadow guards were inching closer, as the two thieves became visible once again, and the cognitive Akira’s eyes were piercing the back of his neck. “Queen,” Joker commanded. “That is an  _ order.” _ He grabbed her arm again, tighter this time.

Makoto jerked away. “You- Is this some kind of game to you?” she yelled. “I want to end this before things can get any worse. I want to prove whatever gross cognitive version of me that’s in here wrong before we even  _ see _ it!” Makoto looked more mutinous than she had ever been.

Akira was desperate now. He didn’t hear the team behind him anymore. Good, at least they had already gotten to safety. “Queen,  _ listen to me,” _ Akira pressed. “This isn’t a fight you can win. If you do this, we will  _ both _ die.” 

Makoto’s eyes flamed with anger. “I can’t  _ believe _ you aren’t even going to stand with me on this,” she fumed. “Fine, I can do it myself.”

Joker was seriously considering bringing out his Forneus with Marin Karin to Brainwash her, he was that desperate, but then panic-induced inspiration struck. With the circle of Shadows almost literally breathing down his neck, Akira edged closer to Makoto, almost back-to-back with her.

“Don’t you want to prove  _ us  _ right?” he whispered over his shoulder. “Who do you respect more, your teammates or some unknown puppet version of yourself?”

Makoto froze. Akira could  _ see _ her visibly struggling with her fury versus her righteousness, face screwed up in indecision, but then,  _ finally _ she sighed, dropping her arms and shaking her head. “Alright, you win,” she said quietly.

Akira was so relieved, he had almost forgotten about the immediate danger that wasn’t planning on letting them off so easily.

“Awww, what a shame,” Shadow Mishima said with fake sadness. “I was  _ so _ looking forward to a battle today…” His eyes gleamed with malice. “Well, if you won’t fight, then I’ll just have to  _ make _ you.” 

“Shall I do it for you?” the cognitive Akira asked. He seemed a tiny bit too interested in killing them. 

Shadow Mishima shook his head affectionately. “Oh no, no need to waste  _ your _ precious time on mere fans, my dear.” He snapped his fingers, and several dozen more Shadows sprouted from the ground all around him and the cognitive Akira, who was still watching Akira intently.  _ “Kill them,”  _ Shadow Mishima ordered. 

The Shadows charged without hesitation. Akira and Makoto took one look at each other, and they both agreed on what they had to do:

_ Run. _

The two of them took off, bursting through the group of Shadow guards and making a dash for the exit, but it was quickly blocked off by two burly Shadows with riot shields.

Akira and Makoto grabbed each other's hands and started to loop around the perimeter of the museum area, which was blessedly large. 

Amazingly, the entire group of their Shadow pursuers was so shortsighted that they chased them by following their own path exactly, and not one of them thought to cut them off, electing to swarm the duo in a huge mob instead.

Shadow Mishima was incensed. “You  _ idiots!” _ he yelled. “Divide up! Cut them off! They’re playing you for fools!”

As funny as it would have been under different circumstances, Akira knew this plan wasn’t going to work forever.

“Yo!” The distinctive voice of Ryuji rang in Akira’s ear. “Need some help there?”

Akira put a hand to his ear so he could hear better.  _ “Skull?”  _ Akira had to keep himself from crying, both with relief and exhaustion from the frantic sprinting they were both doing. 

“Where  _ are _ you?” Makoto chimed in. 

“We’re outside the building right now!” Futaba said urgently. “What do you need us to do? I can fly up there and give you some long-range buffs, or heal you, or-”

“Are you crazy?” Ryuji yelled. “They need us  _ in  _ there!”

Akira narrowly avoided crashing into a display case, as he was focusing more on talking than running. One lone Shadow seemed to have gotten a clue, and was now approaching them from the other direction, but Makoto was ready for it, taking it down with a single lunging punch to the jaw, and they kept going. Time was running out. 

The rushing wind outside the window rang in Akira’s ears, forcing him to cover his left ear with his other hand to keep his focus.

_ The window… _

Akira addressed the navigation duo again. “Look, you guys, I have an idea, but if it’s going to work, we both need you to work  _ together,” _ he said with emphasis. “Come up here, now. The big window.”

Without waiting for an answer from them, Akira nudged Makoto to the side, and the two of them dived over to put their backs against the window. It came out slightly farther than the rest of the room, so it was easy to get into a choke point position. The only problem; they were cornered.

Shadow Mishima’s mood had turned from anger to delight in seconds. “Oh my goodness… this really is a treat to watch, what _was_ I thinking, aren’t you loving this, Akira dear?”

The cognitive Akira nodded in agreement, but his eyes were fixed squarely on the duo of thieves, watching them intently. 

“But now, you two are trapped. So why not make it a good show, hm?” Shadow Mishima looked hugely amused by the whole thing.

“Not a chance,” Makoto growled. Together, both Akira and Makoto drew their guns, sweeping them back and forth between the mass of Shadows that were approaching them.

That put a stop to their advance. Ryuji had proved the other day that Shadows have a very healthy sense of self preservation, and none of them were willing to be the first to step forward and get shot by not one, but  _ two _ cornered teenagers.

The whirring sound and flashing of green lights from behind Akira told him that their backup was there.

“We’re here! What is it?” Futaba cried.

“Holy shit… You really  _ are  _ in a bad spot…” Ryuji gasped.

“Yeah, I figured that out myself, thanks,” Akira grumbled.

The sudden appearance of an honest to god UFO caused the Shadows to back up even more, and even Shadow Mishima’s eyes popped a little.

“F-Futaba?” he stammered. He leaned down to the cognitive Akira. “What is  _ she _ doing here?”

The cognitive Akira put a hand on his chin. “I don’t know, but I don’t think that’s our Futaba at all.” Every word was calculated, his mannerisms refined and intelligent. “They might be another fan working with these two, with a similar power as our Futaba, even if it is quite a poor imitation.”

_ Shit,  _ Akira thought to himself.  _ He’s sharp. _

“We need you to get us out of here,” Makoto told the two of them. 

Futaba sounded worried. “O-Okay… After you smash the window, grab the bottom of Necronomicon with your grappling hook, Joker!”

Akira shook his head at his own stupidity. “I can’t. I broke it, remember?” He swept his gun to point at one of the bolder Shadows that had started to creep towards them.

“U-Uh, so… What are we meant to do, then…?” Futaba stammered.

“We need you and Ryuji to catch us with Necronomicon’s tentacles as we, ah, exit the building. There’s two of you, so you have enough controlling capabilities to both drive and control the tentacles.” Akira ordered.

Makoto shot him a look that was filled with both irritation and shock. She opened her mouth, but Akira interrupted her quickly.

“Queen, I am so, so sorry for making you doubt me, but _please._ _Please_ trust me just this one more time, because if you don’t we will all die for _sure_ instead of just _maybe._ We can argue all you want, _later.”_

Makoto hesitated for a split second, and then she gave a slow, small, almost imperceptible nod. “Go for it, Oracle.”

Futaba sounded terrified. “B-But! I’m the support! I don’t do things like that-”

Ryuji butted in. “That doesn’t matter now!” he snapped. “They need us!”

“No!” Futaba cried in terror. “I- I can’t do that!”

Ryuji groaned in frustration.  _ “Futaba, _ we have-”

Shadow Mishima narrowed his eyes at them. “What are they doing over there? Why haven’t you killed them yet?”

One of the Shadows turned to face its boss. “Uh, well, sir, they’re holding us at gunpoint, you see, and-”

“I don’t want to hear your excuses!” Shadow Mishima screamed. “Kill them now, or  _ I’ll _ be the one doing the firing!” He sounded out of breath from screaming so much, and the cognitive Akira petted his head soothingly.

Akira tapped his foot nervously on the ground. The loyalty of Shadows like these ones almost superseded self-preservation, and it was only a matter of time before they all swarmed them. Akira needed to make Futaba comfortable with this, or else they would die, whether they tried his plan or not.

Akira’s mind slowed, even more than it usually did when he was in tense situations.  _ Is this… Dr. Maruki’s Flow? _ Akira wondered. He was only ever able to achieve a state of Flow before a battle, but this mental challenge seemed to focus him like nothing had before.

_ We can beat this, _ Akira reminded himself. Every life-or-death situation, no matter how hopeless, was just a puzzle. Some of them just had much harder solutions than most. Akira tried to imagine how someone like Dr. Maruki would help Futaba. 

_ “The first step is always to recognize a pattern, or a problem, that you want to fix about yourself.” _

Got it. So, what’s the problem? 

The problem was that Futaba was terrified of helping the team in an active way. But that was kind of an incredibly specific problem, so what was the  _ pattern?  _ It wasn’t a lack of capability, as her explosive finishers for their all-out attacks proved, so…

“Futaba!” Akira risked using her real name to make things more personal for her. “Why are you so afraid of helping us? It’s not because you’re scared to fight enemies, or don’t have the power to… so why?”

“I- I…!” Futaba was starting to remind him of how she had been when they were fighting the monster version of her mother. 

“It’s okay, Futaba,” Ryuji said gently.

“I just don’t want to mess something up and have everybody die because of me!” The words all came out in a rush, and Futaba sounded like she was about to cry.

_ There! _ Akira’s puzzling brain latched onto the reason, and now that he had a reason, it was easy to fix the problem… he hoped.

Akira feinted a lunge forward to scare away the encroaching Shadows, who were starting to get bored of the standoff, but he kept his focus on Futaba. “Futaba, do you remember how you single-handedly saved us all back in your Palace in July? You weren’t even thinking about what you were doing, but you saved  _ everybody! _ I know you can do that again!” Granted, catching two falling humans was quite different from summoning a large ballista, but Akira was focusing more on the emotional than logical side of matters currently.

“I-I guess, but I just-”

Ryuji chimed in. “Remember, you ain’t alone in this,” he told her.

Makoto raised her gun abruptly. “Futaba!” she cried. “I trust you.” Then, without another moment of hesitation, she shot the window behind them, causing the entire glass wall to shatter, and the cold wind from outside to whip through the room, making Akira’s coat tails flutter incessantly.

_ “No!” _ Shadow Mishima cried. “Those cost money, you know!”

Akira spread his arms to make himself a wider target, and prayed. “I believe in you, Futaba!” He fired two shots into the mass of Shadows to shake them up one last time, and then he ignored every survival instinct that was screaming through all the nerves in his body, and forced himself to topple right out of the broken window.

* * *

Akira turned in the air as he fell so he was facing the sky rather than the ground. It was almost… pleasant this way. The moon was unnaturally large, and the pale light was quite soothing, despite the circumstances.

Akira was no stranger to long falls, they seemed to mean less in the Metaverse, but he had a feeling this one would be pushing it if he tried to land on his feet like he usually did.

As Akira tucked his body in to make it easier to grab, he could just barely hear a strangled shriek from Futaba above the rushing of air all around him. The crowd on the streets below them seemed to have re-gathered, because Akira could hear their cries getting louder and louder as the two of them plummeted.

In that moment, he thought he had completely fucked up, and they were about to splat against the ground at a million miles an hour.  _ What a truly foolish end… _ Akira thought to himself.

As the roar of the crowd became almost deafening, Akira simply closed his eyes.

If the gallery had been just one floor lower to the ground, they  _ would  _ have been dead. Just at the last second, Akira felt himself jerk up by the torso and arms, and he lurched sideways rather than continuing to fall straight down. 

“Oh yeah!” Ryuji crowed. “Nice  _ catch, _ Oracle!”

Futaba said nothing. Akira pictured her with a white-knuckle grip on Necronomicon’s control sphere.

The force yanked him up so hard that he felt like his arms were going to pop out of its sockets, but the metallic tendrils wrapped around him held firm. He awkwardly glanced to the side to check if Makoto was all right. Thankfully, she was safe and sound, but unfortunately, she had not been facing the sky like Akira had been, so she was in the slightly embarrassing circumstance of being carried upside down by the legs, with an extra one of Necronomicon’s tendrils wrapped around her torso to keep her from slipping out. All Akira could see from his angle were her long boots, but they looked perfectly fine.

Still, though, Akira didn’t let himself exhale until they hovered over a nearby rooftop and the tendrils gently slid off of him, allowing him to gracefully step down onto solid ground.

There.  _ Now _ Akira exhaled.

Makoto dismounted somewhat less gracefully, but she did manage to avoid landing on her face, and sprang back up rather quickly. The two of them just stared at each other for a few seconds, before they both impulsively rushed forward into a strong hug. 

“I’m sorry,” Akira muttered. It was really both of their faults that they had gotten into such a stressful situation, and Akira really should have noticed where they were going to end up if they kept butting heads like they had been.

“...I’m sorry too,” Makoto replied.

Joker broke off and gave a confident chuckle, pretending both that the hug hadn’t happened and that his legs weren’t still shaking slightly. “Nothing like a good bit of terminal velocity to set your mind straight!” he laughed.

Makoto looked at him with an unreadable expression that had the slightest hint of concern. “Don’t forget about that talk we promised,” she reminded him.

Akira turned serious again. “Of course,” he agreed. “Tomorrow good for you?”

Makoto smiled, a tired, thin smile, but a smile nonetheless. “Of course.”

Akira patted her shoulder. “Awesome.” He was happy to know that they would get closure between the two of them, so for the moment he cast the issue from his mind.

An awkward silence might have descended over the two thieves if not for the familiar voice from behind them.

“You guys are _absolutely_ ** _fucking_** **_RIDICULOUS!”_**

Ann clambered over the edge of the roof and raced over to the two of them, looking absolutely furious.

Akira grinned sheepishly at her, thrusting his hands in his pockets. “Hey, Panther. Am I in time-out now?” he cracked.

Ann glared at him. She looked like she was struggling to decide what to do, and she settled on good old reliable.

_ “OW!” _ Akira cried, rubbing his cheek. “...I deserved that,” he added, shrugging with resignation.

“You deserve  _ this _ too,” Ann fumed. Akira was expecting a slap on the  _ other _ cheek, which he totally would have accepted, but instead Ann roughly pulled him closer and kissed him quickly.

Akira blinked. “...Not what I expected.”

Ann still looked absolutely incensed. “You need to stop  _ jumping  _ off of things as a solution to all your problems,” she ordered.

Akira laughed. “I’ll, uh, keep that in mind,” he conceded.

Makoto raised a bashful hand. “Um… can I have my turn now?”

Ann tilted her head. “What, the slap or the kiss?”

Makoto shrugged. “Both could work.”

Ann smirked. “I can do both.”

“Panther! You’ve left us behind!” came the slightly more distant voice of Yusuke. He scrambled up on top of their roof, shielding his eyes from the bright light of the Palace and the flashing cameras of the fans. Akira didn’t even know what they were taking pictures of, with both the Shadow and the cognitive Akira indoors, but he imagined it was anything and everything they could see that was even tangentially related to Mishima.

Yusuke came over to the group with his long strides and slowed to a stop next to Akira. “Are you two all right? Are you hurt in any way?” he asked, touching Akira’s face in various areas as if to check for any signs of damage. 

“Mmph, personal space, Fox,” Akira mumbled in spite of the fact that Yusuke was inadvertently pinching his mouth shut.

Yusuke jerked away, eyes dawning with understanding. “...I am sorry,” he said at last. “But are you-”

Akira held up a hand. “I’m fine, Fox,” he said pointedly.

Yusuke studied him for another moment. “Good,” he said finally, before darting away, ostensibly to check on Makoto, who seemed to be recovering well from Ann’s deadly combo attack.

Haru was next, who stood before Akira with a very grumpy Morgana on her shoulder. “I agree with Lady A- Lady Panther, that was  _ super _ reckless of you, and-”

“You look good,” Haru said, with a small smile. 

“-and you really should have thought about the consequences before you threw that Vanish Ball-”

“Thank you, Noir,” Akira said genuinely.

“-which are volatile resources that need to have maximized effectiveness if you want to use them correctly-”

“I thought it was clever,” Haru whispered to Akira, with a hand to the side of her mouth that Morgana was closest to.

“Is anyone even listening to me?”

“Thank you, Noir,” Akira said again, bowing his head slightly in appreciation.

Haru smiled wider. “Of course! You remind me of why I’m a Phantom Thief in the first place!”

Akira was stunned at such a genuine compliment. He was astonished at how quickly she had bounced back from the slip up in the elevator, and he wished he could say more than just “Thank you, Noir,” again.

“Thank you, Noir,” Akira said again, bowing for real this time, sweeping off an imaginary hat.

Haru giggled. “Oh, stop, I thought  _ you _ were the leader!” she said, waving a hand.

Morgana sighed. “Ok, fine, I guess… I guess that  _ was _ pretty stylish,” he grumbled. “Even including Oracle and Skull,” he added, crossing his paws.

Haru looked up at the sky, where Necronomicon was just sort of aimlessly hovering around. “What’s taking those two so long, anyways?” she asked.

Ryuji sounded like he was fumbling for a microphone. “Sorry, uh, it’s taking a little bit of effort to calm Oracle down, but I think she’s good now!” he added reassuringly.

“Good” may have been overselling it just a bit. Ryuji almost had to carry Futaba when they descended from the Persona. She looked like every single nerve in her body had been completely shot. “Don’t…  _ ever _ make me do that... again,” she panted as Ryuji gently set her down. “And… I  _ really _ mean that this time,” she added meaningfully, holding up a finger for emphasis. She stumbled over to the main group on shaky legs, looking absolutely frazzled, and pushed up her goggles to wipe her eyes.

Akira patted her on the head, which he knew she liked. “But you  _ did _ it!” he told her. “You saved  _ both _ of us! ...Futaba, I am so,  _ so _ proud of you.”

“You didn’t give me a choice!” Futaba retorted, snapping her head up to glare at Akira. “What was I supposed to do, just let you fall?”

“You could’ve,” Akira nodded. “But you didn’t. And that was  _ so _ badass, Oracle,” Akira said. He wasn’t just giving her positive reinforcement, he was genuinely impressed with her. Even so, he made a mental note to apologize to her later, when he could think straight again.

Futaba snorted. “Yeah, well… It was… j-just the adrenaline working… I d-didn’t really do anything…” she said weakly.

Akira chuckled. “You said that last time, remember? Your adrenaline must be pretty awesome, then.”

Ryuji stretched his arms. “Yeah, I mean, even if it was adrenaline doing the work, that don’t mean it wasn’t all  _ you, _ y’know?”

Akira nodded. “Exactly. 

Makoto looked like the reality of the situation had just hit her. “Oh my God… we literally just… we  _ jumped _ out of a twentieth-story window.”

She glanced at Akira with a look of horror on her face. “What were we  _ thinking?” _

_ “That’s what I was saying!”  _ Ann cried.

Makoto stood stock-still for another brief moment, facing Futaba, and then the two of them suddenly came together into a desperate hug. Makoto sank to the ground and Futaba followed. They didn’t cry, but they just… stayed.

Joker sighed to calm his own nerves, then addressed the whole team. “Awesome job today, all of you.” 

There were the usual “Nah, man”’s or “I didn’t do much”’s, but Akira held out his hand again to silence them.

“I really do mean that. Don’t think for a moment I’m not talking about each of you individually, not just as a team,” he said seriously. Akira cleared his throat. “I… don’t think it’s hard to guess that that’s gonna be all for the infiltration today,” he said plainly.

There were quiet murmurs of agreement. Makoto and Futaba sat up so they could pay attention, with Futaba still in Makoto’s lap.

“But now we know more about what we’re up against,” Akira said firmly. “We know how deadly the cognitive versions of ourselves can be,” Akira gulped as the cognitive version of himself crossed his mind, “and we also know… a bit more about our target,” he concluded, biting his lip. “So, if any of you want to sit out of this mission from here on out, I completely understand-”

Ryuji waved his hands as if to say something. He stepped forward, and put both hands on Akira’s shoulders.

“...Do you have a comment, Skull?” Akira asked, an amused smile twitching at the corners of his mouth.

Ryuji looked dead serious. “Joker, listen to me.”

Akira nodded. “I’m listening.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

Akira raised an eyebrow. “...I’m not quite sure how to respond to that,” Joker replied.

Ryuji awkwardly lifted his hands off of Akira, looking panicked. “Wait, nonono, not like that- It’s just,” Ryuji sighed, his voice more serious. “We’re  _ never _ gonna just hang you out to dry like that, man.”

“Not least because you’d probably get yourself  _ killed  _ without all of us around,” Ann added darkly.

Ryuji nodded. “Thank you, Panther, but also… we ain’t about that, man. Did you really think any of us was gonna take you up on that offer?”

Akira thought about it for a minute. “...No, not really,” he admitted. “I just wanted to make sure the idea was on the table.”

Ryuji clapped Akira’s shoulder. “Good answer, man,” he grinned. “Now, c’mon, let’s see if we can make it home before the last train.”

Yusuke rolled his eyes. “Don’t bet on it,” he said, peering at the street from the edge of the rooftop. “We still have to get  _ down, _ remember?” 

“Hey, here’s an idea,” Makoto said, standing up with Futaba practically clinging to her. “How about we climb down the building  _ slowly _ and  _ carefully _ this time?”

_ “Agreed,” _ Futaba mumbled, her voice muffled due to the fact that her face was practically buried in Makoto’s shoulder.

Ann took a firm grip of Akira’s hand. “I’ll make  _ sure _ of it,” she said fiercely.

Joker grinned. “Sounds like you just want to hold my hand.”

Ann groaned, and started leading him towards the rickety fire escape without another word.

Akira smiled again, but not a cocky, playful Joker smile, a real one. In spite of himself… it was nice to be cared about.

He allowed himself one moment of peace as he and Ann descended. Sure, he still had to truly reconcile with Makoto, and make sure Futaba wasn’t traumatized by his reckless plan, and check on the Mishima in the real world, and consider all the unsettling discoveries they had made about the Palace, and think about the next infiltration… and try  _ not _ to think about how he had just jumped out of a building… and a couple more things he was probably forgetting to worry about…

But other than that, he was perfectly at peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> long time no see everybody! how have you been? i've finally gotten through the big roadblock that was preventing me from finishing this chapter, so FINALLY i can really start writing again! thank you to anybody who's still stuck around :)  
> also, if Shadow Mishima's presence felt lacking, don't worry! there will be much more... in-depth parts with him later, i just didn't think it would be possible to make it work with the whole group there ;)  
> the next chapter will arrive hopefully sooner than later this time! man, will i be relieved to not have to have non-stop tension for a change.


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